Logic

 If you're not at the point where you have to worry, why worry?

Something You'll Never Hear Me Say

 "Hey! I don't allow that kind of language in my house!"

12/26 Is Weird, Ain't It?

The day after, baby - it is a strange almost unmanageable situation.

It's heavy - it is oppressive.

If you had a great Christmas - and I did (except for the Tom Hanks Incident - I swear I'm losing my fucking mind and getting real obvious about it) - if you had a fun day, the day afta is a real slap in the face.

All you can do is take drugs and drink alcohol. Nips are a convenient escape at work.

Look forward to the New Year. That helps. A new year is always top heavy with possibility - the sky is the limit - nothing you can't do, nothing you can't have.

Today is a definite bummer - but January 1 gives you a fresh shot at hope and happiness.

That's life baby - you gotta take your lumps, you gotta take your shots.

Getting Nervous: Everything is perfect. Except that I have only 6 more days to get my Lincoln and my Movado. With all this pressure I just might turn into a sparkly diamond. 

(Jesus, I hope so)

Christmas Day 2023, Baby

 "But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round - apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that - as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it."

Fred Holywell, from A Christmas Carol

This is what Christmas is to me this year, in all it's purity. Sweet magnificance.

Typically I allow cynicism to creep in, except when I am celebrating with my family. But during the lead-up to, and the aftermath, my lips are curled in sarcastic sneer.

This year is different. I'm feeling good, and I'm opening my heart, regardless of the risk of it being impaled by the vicious thrusts of daggers sharpened with evil intentions.

"as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely," - these are the important words from Fred's comment.

I have been moving about with the words Merry Christmas dripping off my lips - every chance I get. Dunkin Donuts, the liquor store, Market Basket, Jersey Mike's, Old Navy - to name a few. Blurting Merry Christmas as if it was a sacred blessing - and meaning it. 

And accepting the "Merry Christmas return" with no cynical judgement. Accepting it as a genuine expression from a stranger wishing me a joyous holiday. Feels so goddamn good.

Dropping a dollar into the Salvation Army bucket outside Market Basket every single time, which I have visited 287 times in the past few weeks. Me and the bell ringer dude have established a good relationship - mini conversations, he knows me, I know him. And when he says "God bless you" I say "Thank you" and I mean it.

Christmas can be a pretty sweet thing when you allow it to be what it is intended to be.

Today Carol and I will be with Keith & Krista, Craig, Amanda & Jackson (in Amanda's belly), Ed & Carolina. What a sweet, fun and love-filled day it will be.

My family is magnificent, but we don't all get together as often as we should. But that's life, baby. So today is magic. Special. An incredible moment in time when we can relax, laugh, and take the time to appreciate just how special this particular gathering of human beings is.

Totally unique. Ain't no other family like it. There can't be. Every family is unique. And the beauty of family is that you take a group of individuals and bring them together, and they are family, which takes every special thing about each of us and makes it even better. To create this thing that is greater than the sum of the parts. And when you have the right parts, it becomes sacred.

And my family has the right parts.

Carol and I, and Eddie are the elders. Time goes by so fast that the best you can do is stand back and appreciate how the family has evolved. We will do that today in gratitude, awe, wonder, and love.

It does not get any better than this.

Merry Christmas to this amazing family.

I Went to the Liberry

I have come full circle, people.

When we moved I was forced to put an extraordinary amount of physical effort and decision making into getting rid of my books. They went to Goodwill, and to the swap shop at the local dump.

I shed myself of at least 200 books. At least. It was probably a lot more than that, but if I put a bigger number out there you will accuse me of lying.

It was heartbreaking.

I had to adapt. I cannot afford to accumulate books in the new house like I used to. Because of room considerations, and because I never want to go through that again. Ever.

So I reconciled myself to reading on my tablet. Which is OK, I can deal with it. It is convenient and I can download books at the speed of light.

Keith visited to check out the new house recently. Talking about books and he suggested that I get me a library card. And BOOM my brain was there. I never would have arrived at that solution on my own because I had developed a deep-seated avoidance of libraries. I had to own my books. But suddenly the library made sense.

Carol and I got cards the next day. And I am in love. Holding hardcover books in my hands again sends tremors throughout my nervous system. Joy. And browsing through the library is devine.

So now I have a hybrid system. Library books, and the tablet when I want it. Fucking perfect.

I want to know the date of my first visit to a library, because that's where I got my start. But it is impossible to know. I would also like to know the last time I visited a library before moving here. A long, long, time ago. I want to trace the arc of this love, to make sense of where I ended up - amazing how we adapt as human beings. Surprising how joy can come from a corner of your life that you have avoided for decades.

The library laid the seeds of my addiction and fed my jones beautifully until................I don't know when. But it is at the root of who I am. So I have come full circle.

And I am OK with it. In fact I love the whole process. Visiting the library and shooting the shit with the librarians - which is in keeping with the new social me - browsing through the stacks - checking out a book - hitting the recliner with a hardcover book to protect me - returning that puppy and beginning the process all over again. Sublime.

AND I absolutely needed a Willie Nelson book recently that I just became aware of so, BLAMMO, I downloaded that beauty to my tablet, where it lurks, waiting to gratify me.

Best of both worlds, baby.

Christ, man - it just keeps getting better and better.

A Change

 Gonna live my life elegantly from now on.

Time Has Come Today

 How quickly does your mind move?

Can you stop it or even slow it down?

My mind is a foreign thing to me now. It is experiencing unaccustomed emotions intensely and relentlessly. But this newfound mode of thought mixes in with the old guard - worry, anxiety, indecision - and creates quite the stew.

I was sitting here quietly this morning in bliss, reading with Patsy and a cup of coffee, when suddenly and inexplicably the old guard swamped and polluted my mind.

Actually, not so inexplicably. I interviewed for a menial job yesterday - at Staples, in honor of Dwight Schrute, and that act sent my unconscious into a tailspin. The unconscious became conscious this morning.

I have been handed an extraordinary opportunity here in my new life. The biggest mistake I could make is to do what I have always done.

Undervalue myself.

I have money in the bank. I am under no immediate pressure to get a job. But my mind doesn't accept this. My mind thinks I have to hurry. So I have been chasing demeaning employment just to get the spigot flowing. Like I always do.

Time to step back. Time to take a breath. Time to fully realize the full beauty of the extraordinary gift I have been given.

Time to step into the reality of a life that up until this moment has only existed as a shadow.

Reckless

 The finish line is close at hand.

I can't see it, but I sense it.

I need to move faster. 

I need to get reckless.

Keith Richards

Happy Birthday, Keith Richards.

80 years old today.

I believe the magic comes from being in sync with who you are at all times and acting accordingly. The man has lived his life his way, and continues to do so. Imagine the reduction in stress in your life if you could just be who you are in every waking moment without second guessing yourself or compromising or putting on an act.

Most of us cannot do that, strange as that may sound. Most of us pay a price.

We watched Willie Nelson's 90th birthday concert last night. Another man who knows exactly who he is and puts it out there every day. Precious moment - Keith Richards sang a duet with Willie on a song titled Live Forever, written by Billie Joe Shaver. Spectacular.

The concert was great. Kris Kristofferson was there, a man that I love. 87 years old. Broke my heart, though - he has been through some health shit. Wore him down. His eyes were vacant - it was like he wasn't even there.

Another aside: December 8 - belatedly:

Happy birthday, Gregg Allman. RIP.

Happy birthday, Jim Morrison. RIP

FUCK YOU Mark David Chapman. Rot in your cell, and rot in hell when you get there, fucking scumbag.

Anyway, Keith Richards is 80 years old today. I love the man. Always have. There is a joy about him, as there is with Willie, because he lives his life beautifully. When you figure out early on why you have been put on this earth, and you live your life in harmony with your heart and your soul and your mind all along the way, you become a walking talking beacon of light and hope.

And when you break all the rules getting there, your persona carries even more weight.

Keith used heroin for 10 years. He kicked the habit. He used every drug available to him at one time or another, which is essentially every drug available on planet earth. He drank oceans of whiskey.

Willie drank oceans of whiskey. When he quit that, he smoked megatons of pot.

What does all that prove? There are no fucking rules. Do whatever works for you as long as you know where your personal line in the sand lies. What you can handle and what you cannot.

But what makes Willie and Keith who they are, is that they transcend all that. That's all anybody wants to talk about - Willie's pot smoking and Keith's decadence. But they are about a lot more than that - a whole hell of a lot more.

That's why we love them.

Happy 80th Birthday, Keith Richards.

I know you are having a hell of a great day.

Carol Is In Trouble

Aristotle said: "Happiness is the meaning and purpose of life, the whole aim and the end of human existence."

A troubled mind can contribute to health problems.

"We know that up to 80% of visits to primary care doctors are due to conditions that are caused or exacerbated by unmanaged stress. Being happy doesn't just make us feel better, it improves our health."

"Experts agree a one-time booster shot, whether a funny movie or a piece of good news, isn't likely to make a lasting difference. For that, there must be a mindset shift." 

Dr. Francoise Adan, psychiatrist

"A vast scientific literature has detailed how negative emotions harm the body. Serious, sustained stress or fear can alter biological systems in a way that, over time, adds up to "wear and tear" and, eventually, illnesses such as heart disease, stroke, and diabetes. Chronic anger and anxiety can disrupt cardiac function by changing the heart's electrical stability, hastening artherosclerosis, and increasing systemic inflammation."

Harvard School of Public Health

Scientific studies have begun to reveal a host of physical health benefits surrounding happiness including a stronger immune system, stronger resilience in the face of stress, a stronger heart and less risk of cardiovascular disease, alongside quicker recovery times when overcoming illness or surgery.There is even a body of research that indicates being happy may help us to live longer lives."

Positive Psychology, 2019

I'm getting all clinical on you because I know you are tired of hearing me talk about how fucking happy I am. I would get tired of talking about it if I wasn't so happy. So I decided to put some meat on the bone.

I was deeply unhappy for at least 20 years. At least. So much so that it was just a fact of life. My body and mind absorbed the unhappiness and made it part of my overall makeup. So in a strange kind of way, at times, I did not notice it. In other words I was not always walking around with my head down, spewing negative-isms, crushingly depressed and dressed all in black. Sometimes I laughed. Sometimes I felt all right. 

Except I wasn't all right. Now that I am experiencing genuine happiness I realize that previously I was morbidly all right. The walking dead conceding defeat in life and accepting it as normal. Which kind of takes the edge off.

Then happiness exploded into my consciousness, and I mean exploded. The contrast is severe, and tastes like chocolate. At first I almost couldn't handle it because it was a foreign emotion and so very intense.

It affects everything. Literally every aspect of my waking existence.

Perspective, opinions, attitude, point of view, how I respond to things, how I approach things, my relationship with Carol, my relationship with the world, my sense of responsibility, my way of thinking about life. Life.

There is no doubt that happiness has a positive effect on your life. No fucking doubt.

But there is a relatively new school of thought that takes it a step further. Read the following quote:

"There is general agreement amongst scientific minds that happiness improves health. But recent studies prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that a sudden, explosive, and unexpected blast of happiness that carries with it the promise of longevity - something cataclysmic, something life-changing, something drastic with huge and long-lasting implications - studies prove that kind of happiness adds a guaranteed 25 years to a person's life."   Dr. J.R. Testa, Phd, world renowned expert on happiness and longevity, and master of life.

I will live to be 95. At least.

Carol is in trouble.

Charlie Died

The weight of his unjustified life, sitting on his shoulders all day every day, slowed him down and killed his options.

Charlie loved grapenuts. You can't eat grapenuts quickly - you gotta chew, you gotta crunch, you gotta make sure they don't slip down your throat and cause mayhem. They do not delight the tastebuds the way frosted flakes do, but there is something satisfying about eating grapenuts. A utilitarian breakfast that suited Charlie's lifestyle and mentality.

Grapenuts allowed Charlie to think. And think he did. As he stared at the wall through the steam from a cup of coffee.

He thought about his life, about what life is. It starts out as this hopeful thing, filled with possibilities. A promise of satisfaction and pride and peace at some point down the road. But quietly, slowly, slyly, it degenerates into a low level hum. Background noise to routine. Turns out the hopeful part originates from naivete.

At least that's the way it went for Charlie.

Sitting in his run down house in rural America, eating grapenuts and sipping coffee, nursing no unrealisitc hope of redemption. Nursing nothing at all but a sense of emptiness.

Charlie thought about dying. He could never kill himself, he did not have the guts to do that. But if the Grim Reaper came calling he would not run. If rancid breath offended his sense of smell, accompanying the words "I'm coming for you, Charlie" echoing in his ears, Charlie would limply respond "OK."

He finished his grapenuts, swallowed the last mouthful of coffee - thankfully still warm - and wondered what to do. He sighed. Deeply. There was just nothing there, nothing to inspire him or even interest him. Everything had become predictable. Repetitive. Charlie's life was unoriginal.

It was Saturday. Charlie did not have to work. That was the only thing that set Saturdays and Sundays apart from the rest of the week. Otherwise, emotionally, intellectually, weekends were exactly the same as weekdays. A low level hum.

He was tired. He was always tired. Even right out of bed. Worn down, the way a drill bit gets worn from continously biting into granite. It happens gradually, imperceptively, but relentlessly. Life did that to Charlie.

He decided to lie down on the couch. He had just washed the slipcover and fitted it back over the sofa. It was clean and bright. Red. Charlie's only indulgence with a nod to cheerfulness.

His head hit the fat pillow he kept on the couch. Impulsively, he decided he would will himself to put an end to all this. To get the peace that eluded him his entire life. And half an hour later he succeeded.

Charlie died.

Two Truths

 "You got to remember who you are so you don't become like the people around you. Each night you tell yourself over and over you got a special place inside you where you live. It's like a private cathedral nobody can touch. That's the secret to sanity.

This is so perfect; a perfect way to approach life, because in the final analysis it is just you. You are alone in your uniqueness and you are the only one who can make it work.

"But you can't tell anybody about your special place. Because once they know you got that private place in your head, they'll strap you down and kill your brain cells with electroshock."

This is the flip side - everybody wants what you got if it's good. And they especially do not want you to benefit from it. Gotta watch your back.

These quotes are from Pegasus Descending by James Lee Burke. Yeah, baby - Dave Robicheaux and Clete Purcel are back in my life.

And You Condemn Drinking?

 "The man had arrived at that stage of drunkenness where affection is felt for the universe."

Stephen Crane

Digging The Vibe

 I am currently unemployed.

I am diligently looking for work and I don't even mind. I WANT to work; I want to fatten up our bank account to protect this new life we are living. And loving.

I scored a job interview last week but was not offered the job. Some people can be so short-sighted.

All that being said, not working is a mighty fine feeling.

What Are You Thinking About?

 1) How often do you think about dying?

2) How many wakes have you been to in your lifetime?

Is it possible there's a disconnect in your thought process?

Don't Give Up

 "Don't give up, don't ever give up."

Jim Valvano said that in a speech he gave at the ESPYs on March 4,1993. He was dying of cancer. He died on April 28,1993. A month later. He was 47 years old.

Those words meant a lot coming from him. Because he backed them up. He fought, and he worked so hard to be positive in an impossible situation, and to inspire others to fight.

For the past 20 years of my life, I did not believe in that philosophy. After taking a bunch of wrong turns, and making a mountain of mistakes, I realized that life eventually gets the upper hand. Why try? Give up, accept your punishment, and get numb.

I gave up. I accepted the fact that I had pissed my life away, and seethed in a house I grew to hate. Because it mocked me as a loser.

And then there was an explosion in my life.

We sold our house. For a lot more money than it was worth. So much so that we bought a new place outright - no mortgage - and put a healthy chunk of change in the bank. We bought a place that we love. In a town that we love. And suddenly I am happy....................and inspired to do something with my life, instead of laying around moping.

Carol is 70 and I'm about to be. Who the hell ever thought our lives could get so good so late? I had given up on my life, but now I am driven to live it instead of just enduring it. 

I wake up happy every day. Every single day. I know I have been given a second chance. A bolt from the blue. It happened so suddenly and so unexpectedly. I am vibrant with awareness of this gift that I have been given, and I am determined to make the most of it. It is impossible for me to take it for granted - I feel so good and so alive that I never want to lose this feeling. I want to make it even better.

In that speech Jimmy V said there are three things you should do every day: Laugh, think, and allow your emotions to move you to tears. In other words, FEEL! 

I laugh every day now. I think - about where I was, what just happened, and where I am going. I don't get tears every day (although it's often, and they are tears of gratitude), but my emotions are raging through my heart and mind like floodwaters overflowing a riverbank. I am an emotional and passionate man, and those attributes are buzzing at peak levels right now. I fucking love it.

I gave up on my life. But someone, or something, somewhere said "No, no, no - you don't get off that easy. I give your life back to you in a new and improved state. Now let's see what you do with it."

I am grateful beyond belief.

I will not blow it this time.

Recalibrating Jars The Soul

My bookcases exude melancholia.

They know I am downloading books to my tablet. They sense it.

I have been here a month and have not added even one book to their shelves. Although they take pride in the pieces of my soul they display, they want to be vibrant, to move forward, to avoid stagnation.

As anyone would.

We are recalibrating our emotional relationship.

It will take time.

Please note: This post took some inspiration from a Tom Waits song titled The Piano Has Been Drinking.

Cadillac Jack

I am reading a book called Cadillac Jack. By Larry McMurtry.

If you came across a book called Cadillac Jack, could you pass it by? If so, I worry about the state of your curiosity. Your appreciation of the intriguing.

It has characters like Sir Crisp Crip. Many characters have names like that. Reminds me of the colorful characters Lawrence Sanders filled his books with.

I am digging Cadillac Jack.

And in a related story:

My two, tall, black, beautiful bookcases now stand in mute testimony to my greatest obsession - books.

In the other house, the bookcases were upstairs in my private lair where nobody ever saw them. I would admire them from time to time because they hold a special magic for me, but - other than that - they went unnoticed.

In our new home they are again in my private lair, but my private lair is on the first floor (everything is on the first floor because there is no second floor) and they stand out magnificently. You cannot miss them. You walk to the end the hall, look to your right and there they are - filling the wall opposite the door - filling your vision.

I love the way they look here. Dramatic. Impressive. Bearing witness to a lifetime of reading, dramatically thinned out.

I got rid of literally hundreds of books. Hundreds! As I did, I entertained the idea of inviting Keith and Craig over to go through them, but you know how it goes.

"Oh my God! We are moving in __ days and we have so much packing, and thinning out left to do, we are under the gun, we gotta get this done NOW, just get rid of this shit!"

So my books went into boxes (many, many boxes), and the boxes went to the swap shop at the dump, and to Goodwill.

Frankly I am amused to think of the people sifting through my books. I have mostly eclectic tastes. Yes, I read plenty of "normal" books, but I also read a helluva lot of quirky stuff. Not mainstream. That is the benefit of voracious reading - you can fill up on quirky and still have time to rest and entertain the brain with run of the mill. With the caveat that all of it must be well written.

I don't think people who obtain books from swap shops and Goodwill are discerning. I imagine them picking up one of my books and thinking "What the hell is this?"

I like the fact that all these books, that were in my hands and devoured by me, now belong to other people. Strangers. People I will never meet and be able to discuss these books with. Fractional pieces of my life live on independent of me and, eventually, beyond my lifespan.

Pretty cool.

So contentedly I read Cadillac Jack, and secretly swell with pride anytime another family member or friend gets to admire my precious bookcases.

It's good to make an impression.