What Is and What Could Be

"I wish someone had told me that my first step, the first step anyone must take, is inward."

"I wish someone had told me when I was lost and desperate for direction and support that I was really longing to meet myself."

"I wish someone had told me I was the only one who could give myself what I asked from and wanted from another."

"I wish someone had told me that from going within I would meet the only person who could give me the love I longed for, the only person who could carry me through my darkest nights, the only person who could heal the hurt inside me through unconditional love, the only person who could truly love me and that, that person was my highest self. The self who knew of my greatness, my capacity, my truth, my limitlessness. That there behind all the tremendous noise my mind created, behind all my resistance to the quiet, was all I had been looking outside of myself for."

Sarah Blondin, meditation guide

These words are from a meditation I have been digging lately - it directs my thoughts to the right place. Either you are there, or you are trying to get there before all is lost. Or you don't care.

"Everybody knows that the dice are loaded, everybody rolls with their fingers crossed. 

Everybody knows the war is over, everybody knows the good guys lost.

Everybody knows the fight was fixed, the poor stay poor, the rich get rich.

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking, everybody knows that the captain lied.

Everybody got this broken feeling, like their father or their dog just died.

That's how it goes.

Everybody knows."

From Everybody Knows, by Leonard Cohen.

Here are my thoughts. 

Sarah Blondin's words are about true life and true self - you cannot live life fully if you do not know and love yourself. Her words should inspire us to go from "wishing someone had told us", to actually doing the things that allow us to be ourselves naturally.

I think we all know that the self has to come first. Trouble is, it's a simple concept but a challenging reality. We get distracted because life demands so much from us. Compromise. Responsible things, survival things, unfun things, things that kill dreams and diminish happiness. And happiness is what we all strive for, endlessly and in great frustration.

Know thyself, and happiness. These are at the core of life. They matter.

Leonard Cohen's words describe the world as it is. No sugar coating. Like a slap to the face. We all know that too. We want a better world, we want it to be fair and just, we want everybody to have an even chance. But the world is a vicious place; always has been, always will be.

The only way to make the most of your life in a world as cold as this one is, is to take Sarah Blondin's words to heart. To look inside yourself, cut through all the defenses and lies and fears, figure out exactly who you are and exactly what it takes to make you happy - and then do it.

The world and everybody else be damned.

Me & Patsy & The Future

Listening to Stephen Stills. Manassas.

Patsy is on my lap. It's her turn tonight.

Feeling peaceful. 

This room is ground level; somehow that seems appropriate. My room in the old house was on the second floor - touching the sky never brought me luck.

I'm looking out at the snow in my yard as darkness falls. Close up.

Been a strange journey. And the road ahead is unmarked and unmapped - I don't know what to expect. But I know where I've been. I've learned some lessons. I'm not afraid.

My mind has been opened up. That changes things. A lot.

I'm gonna keep moving. Motion feels right, and inertia would be the death of me now anyway.

Wish me luck.

I'm having good thoughts for you too.

God As Slacker (Be Afraid)

 "For we do not know what beasts the night dreams when its hours grow too long for even God to be awake."

Hildred Castaigne 

Perfect Tranquility

Sitting in the recliner this morning reading in rapture.

I was at the point where the sun was radiating upon me through the picture window next to me, making me even warmer, even more comfortable, even more content.

Patsy was in my lap. She moved over so that her ass was on my thigh and the rest of her body was draped over the arm of the recliner, head and front legs curved downward, facing the window. She fell asleep.

And there you have it. The thing we all covet - perfect tranquility.

I can get peaceful but it's never perfect. How about you? Is it just me? Am I more neurotic than your average human? Or do we all compromise tranquility with worried thoughts?

I am much better at it than ever before. (Shut up, Joe - for Christ sake, are you going off on another rant about how fucking happy you are?) I have moved along the space-time continuum by leaps and bounds, but there is still work to be done.

Bank teller is a stepping stone. To something. I don't know what yet. But it will give me the financial security I need to sleep at night, and to pursue the re-making or rebirth of the Joe, successfully. 

What I am doing to myself is roughly akin to the chiseling of Mount Rushmore, which took 14 years. I don't have 14 years. I have only a nanosecond. To accomplish the important stuff. To get a writing career up and running. To burn away all misguided thoughts, emotions, and reactions, so I can get to Genuine Joe - for my own peace of mind, and for the entertainment of family and friends. To create a path to retirement.

This is where I am headed. I should start working on this today, with extreme prejudice.

But fuck it. It's Sunday. Two NFL playoff games to watch, which I hope to be spectacular. Carol's company to enjoy. Patsy and Emmy Lou to love. Myself to love.

Today I am seeking perfect tranquility.

I learned that from Patsy.

Time to Change My Profile Picture

 "You know who wears sunglasses inside? Blind people and assholes."

Larry David

Define Excessive

 I must acquire excessive wealth immediately if I am to live the life of my dreams.

Dichotomy

 I LOVE hockey.

I LOVE tennis.

Is this even allowed?

Australian Open 2024, baby.

Noble Goal

 In addition to bringing beauty, learning, fun, love, satisfaction and achievement into my life right now, I may as well also focus on becoming the grittiest, kick-ass 70 year old motherfucker on planet earth.

Flex Any Muscles Lately?

 "Freedom is something that dies unless it's used."

Hunter S. Thompson

A Wasted Day (Where My Head Is At)

I'm jazzed.

That's where my head is at. New home, new community, new town, new surroundings, new job. How's that for a clean slate?

I'm also aware. Aware of exactly where I am at and pretty sure about what I need to do to make the most of it.

Yesterday I made a bad choice - I chose to be angry instead of choosing to be light-hearted.  Made an hour trip to a strange and congested place to get fingerprinted for the job. Couldn't find the building, walked around in the cold looking for it; GPS failed me twice - the trip was difficult overall.

The GPS thing was funny. Could not get it up and running at all for the trip home - I have NO sense of direction and had no idea where I was. Carol became my human GPS. I called her, she stayed on the line, pulled up directions, and left turned me and right turned me until I got to a place I recognized. 

Funny stuff. I should have laughed, should have joked with Carol as she saved me. But I didn't. I let the frustrations of the day fuel my anger, and I let it burn well after I got home.

I wasted the day.

I finished reading a biography of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young this morning. What a ride. I've read the autobiographies of Crosby, Nash and Young - Stills has not written one - but reading about the band as one was a cool perspective. They were so beautiful together.

They wasted a lot of time, money and talent. They admit that. They feuded all the time, and lost so many opportunities because of their egos and petty differences and misunderstandings and abuses. Their lives kind of parallel mine so I aged with them through the book.

I am 70 now. I cannot afford to waste any more time. But I extravagantly wasted yesterday.

This cannot happpen. I am trying to bring beauty to every day. Or learning. Or fun. Or love. Or satisfaction. Or achievement. Or some combination of the above.

Slipping into old, predictable reactions, or destructive emotions, or self-sabotaging thoughts is anathema to the man I am becoming. Wasting time peals the death knell.

I cannot have that.

I will not have that.

And Thank God For Jack Daniel's

I know you have seen the ad by now.

The one with all the rock 'n rollers rockin' out, with a bottle of Jack Daniel's prominently displayed in every scene.

I loved it the first time I saw it. Because it makes the connection between whiskey and rockin' out. It doesn't just make the connection - it celebrates it. Which is only right and natural.

The pairing is perfect. You cannot have it any other way. 

PB&J. Turkey & Swiss. Bangers & Mash. White wine & Fish. Cheech & Chong. Jack Daniel's and rock 'n roll.

My soul suffocated many years ago when musicians started showing up on stage with bottles of water and no cigarettes. I knew then that society was headed in the wrong direction - antiseptic, watered down, spineless.

Rock music is defiant, man, and the people who play it need to be the same way.

Shit, man - when I was a kid, rock bands would walk on stage, plant a bottle of Jack Daniel's firmly on their amps, cigarette dangling from their mouth or tucked under the guitar strings up by the nut, and go to work.

Those are real musicians in the Jack Daniel's ad, by the way, spreading the gospel. And the sound track is AC/DC - Back In Black, which is fucking perfect. Straight ahead kick-ass rock 'n roll.

We should all live our lives with Jack Daniel's on the amp and a cigarette dangling from our lips. But we can't. So it's up to musicians to shoulder the load.

If they continue to let us down, as they have been for quite a while now, we might as well all just give up and agree to wear beige jumpsuits, watch The Brady Bunch in endless reruns, and talk about the weather.

My god - bile is rising to my throat as I think about it.

I look awful in a jumpsuit.

The Third Act

 I'm on stage, baby.

Caustic Words

 "Don't make me laugh. We're one people. It's a myth created by Thomas Jefferson."

"My friend, Jefferson's an American saint because he wrote the words "All men are created equal." Words he clearly didn't believe, since he allowed his own children to live in slavery. He was a rich wine snob who was sick of paying taxes to the Brits. So yeah, he wrote some lovely words and aroused the rabble, and they went out and died for those words, while he sat back and drank his wine and fucked his slave girl. This guy wants to tell me we're living in a community. Don't make me laugh. I'm living in America, and in America, you're on your own. America's not a country. It's just a business."

Jackie Cogan (Brad Pitt) in Killing Them Softly.

Cogan is in a bar talking to another guy. There's a tv over their heads. President Obama is on the tube delivering his election victory speech. Cogan is reacting to that. Cogan is a hired killer.

I'm particularly fond of the lines: "America's not a country. It's just a business."

Somebody Actually Hired Me?

Got me a job.

I have been busting my ass doing everything I can think of to get me a leg up in my dogged attempts to procure employment.

I have put enormous effort into it. Hours and hours and hours reading up on current approaches to writing resumes, then actually creating resumes, revising resumes, and revising the revisions. Applying for jobs through Indeed, Monster, LinkedIn, Retirementjobs.com and more and more and more. Some jobs I wanted, some I didn't, but I applied because of the money or the convenience or just to soothe my tortured soul that I was doing everything I could do to set us up for peace, love, and security.

I contacted a bunch of employment agencies online. I verbally communicated with three of them, and then rode their asses to pressure them into presenting me with opportunities.

I have had four or five interviews - I lost track. The last interview was yesterday.

Got a phone call this morning - they offered me the job. I accepted.

The job? Bank teller at TD Bank.

I hear you mocking me. "What? A talented, charismatic, educated, talented, creative 70 year old man like you taking a teller's job?"

Hear me out. The job pays $5 more per hour than I was making last year. The bank is located ten minutes from my house. Ten minutes. My ego is not so big that I can brush aside opportunity.

I got an amazing vibe from every person I spoke to during this process, four in total. Not one negative vibe. No second guessing on my part. My gut tells me the truth.

It is a small branch - 7 employees. I like that - huge organization but intimate work environment. I get benefits, even as a part-timer (20 to 30 hours per week).

Most important of all - I have achieved everything I wanted to achieve since we set the "let's try to sell the house" vibe in motion. Sold our old house for maximum value in a simple twist of fate, bought our new place outright. Ended up in a house that we love, in a community that we love, in a region that we love.

The final piece of the puzzle is the job. I so wanted to live my entire life in this area - no commuting to fucking Concord or anywhere else. And I wanted to make enough money to fatten up our bank account as protection against the evil forces of life who try so hard to break your back.

Now I have it all. And it all happened bewteen October 31, 2023 and January 11, 2024. That is lightning fast, baby. 

My head spins.

Since October 31

Happiness bullets are coursing through my bloodstream, taking aim at every malevolant cancer cell and ill intentioned microorganism intent on shortening what's left of my lifespan.

I feel safer since October 31.

In Those Moments

Often, when the Bruins are on a West Coast swing, I end up alone in the dark.

Digging the game.

Carol goes to bed. Patsy is stretched out in my lap. Got a cup of whiskey next to me.

The game goes into OT. It's midnight.

In those moments, I feel like an Evil Genius.

One Must Adapt

"I feel good about myself."

He said the words out loud. So he could hear them. So he could see how they made him feel.

He had never said those words before; never even thought them.

They rolled off his tongue self-consciously but felt holy when he heard them. And natural. Which is odd because it took a long time - an awful long time, to get here.

He had beat himself up for so long and so viciously that his insides were black and blue. "You end up like a dog that's been beat too much, 'til you spend half your life just covering up." Springsteen is a genius of human nature. 

Beatings come from without, beatings come from within. His were internally administered.

But a dog that's been beaten and is suddenly offered love, is tentative. He knows how it goes - he doesn't trust the love, he's ready to cower. Self-preservation, baby.

It wasn't like that for him. He was ready. Ready to feel good. To step inside himself fully and present an honest face to the world.

Feel good is medicine. Feel good is a weapon with which a person can do honest battle against what life dishes out. 

There were missteps. Moments when he felt compelled to express and define his happiness. It doesn't work that way. Happiness just has to be.

He was learning.

It would not take long.

Powerful Words

 "A father is a man who expects his son to be as good a man as he meant to be."

Frank A. Clark

These words pack the powerful punch of truth. And the sting of underachievement. Fathers try, fathers fail.

Their sons become the living embodiment of hope.

For Me

Just read a book titled The Butcher's Daughter, by Victoria Glendinning. Set in 16th century England.

A very fine book.

Lots of nasty things were going on in the 1500's in England. One of the characters, during some nastiness that was causing a great deal of uncertainty and unhappiness for a lot of people, said in a spirit of hopefulness: "There will be butterflies."

I love that expression. I love the hopefulness of it.

I am adopting it as my own.

What a Difference a Day Makes

Then again, a person can use a happiness platform to launch a new reality into the stratosphere.

What did I just say?

Happiness is a fine commodity. You take what you can get and then build from there. You gotta savor it, appreciate it, and celebrate it. What you don't want to do is pollute it. That would be a sin.

Happiness is fragile. It is subject to the whims of the mind. A diseased mind threatens happiness, more often than not undeservedly. A mind once diseased but now flooded with happiness, must adapt. A new reality is dizzying - you gotta get your feet under you. But quickly. Happiness must be nourished and delicately cared for so it can bloom into ecstasy.

Lesson learned.

Ten Minutes Ago

I welcomed 2024 with ecstasy. 

Today is January 5, 2024.

I am living in a new house that I love, in a new town that I love. I have no mortgage to pay - I own my house free and clear. 

I have a chunk of money in the bank.

I am surrounded by convenience in every possible way, as opposed to where I used to live, which was on the edge of the world - miles and miles away from anything that could make my life easier. 

I quit my job, haven't worked in coming up on two months - it has been divine. 

I am getting close to landing a decent paying job ten minutes from my house - second interview coming up on Wednesday.

My life got exponentially easier, happier and more beautiful as of October 31, 2023. I am happy in a way I never thought possible.

Ten minutes ago, sitting in my recliner, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the sense that I am walllowing in unthinking happiness. A happiness that is fantastic and beautiful, but maybe not deep enough.That I am not doing enough; not trying even close to as hard as I should be to make my life better in a meaningful way. Especially at the age of 70.

I'm feeling a little shaky right now.

I Am a Truffle Hog

I am rooting around like a truffle hog, looking for a job.

I know I will sniff one out eventually. I am not worried about it at all.

I have updated my resume approximately 77 times since November 1. In fact I now have three different resumes to cover various situations. I am using current styles, and ways of presenting information - formats that were not standard when I last updated the resume in 1886.

And, of course, I am using every underhanded way of disguising my age that I can possibly come up with, including those recommended by "resume experts." Like not listing the year I graduated college. Like only showing fifteen years of experience instead of the 45 years that actually represent my working life. And by typing at the top of the resume, under my name, "I Am Not Old."

This is necessary because at this stage of my life, most potential employers see me as an imminent corpse more than a future employee.

I have to be careful, though. I can't just jump at anything. I expect a certain level of pay and a certain level of dignity. Understand, I am not looking for a career - I am just looking for a job that will swell our coffers and make life safe and enjoyable for me and Carol. But I don't have to wear a paper hat or a hair net just to get a paycheck.

I came close. Because even though we have a pretty solid level of security for a while, my mind keeps saying "You're unemployed, you goddamn slacker - you're not bringing in any money - you gotta earn!". You know, it's that thought process that is drilled into your brain from the time you are 3 days old.

Christ, I came close. I applied to Staples and I applied to Market Basket. I have no idea what I was thinking. Actually, I do. I am afraid Carol will panic at some point and scream at me "Tiffany's closed my account because I only spent $5,000 last month. Get a fucking job."

Truthfully, I don't want Carol to think I am sitting in my office every day getting pissed and watching porn. I feel like I have to show results. But I need to have patience. I know I am working as hard as I can at getting a job. It will happen. And our good fortune will continue.

Staples interviewed me. When they asked about experience I told them I operate a beet farm. They did not hire me. (Editor's note - They actually did interview me and did not hire me. WTF.) I had an interview scheduled at Market Basket, but I cancelled it. Close fucking call in both instances.

So I'm rooting around. Sniffing out opportunity. I will lower my standards a bit for a job close by - there are a lot of businesses in Tilton and Laconia. A 10 minute commute would be joyous. But no hair nets.

Did you know that when you go through the Burger King drive thru they say "How can I help you? You rule!" And after you place your order they say "Pull up to the window. You rule!" I bet every Burger King employee is an alcoholic.

The good thing is that the sky's the limit. Anything is possible. The whole world is at my feet. Pick your cliche.

I literally have nothing but opportunity in front of me and it feels oh so good.

A Ghost, Not a Spirit

 If you go through life never figuring out exactly who you are, it is the saddest thing conceivable.

College Football Is Rock 'N Roll

Are you kidding me?

Did you see the Rose Bowl and the Sugar Bowl on Janaury 1? Holy shit.

College Ball vibrates at the speed of life. The competition itself is exciting, and the intensity gets amped up ten times over by the crowd - students, alumni, parents, grandparents, infants, and fetuses - who are emotionally invested in their team at a level that explodes skulls.

96,000 people at the Rose Bowl. 74,000 people at the Sugar Bowl. Bringing the thunder.

I caught the first half of the Rose Bowl. Then I fell asleep. I woke up to find that Michigan won the game in overtime. Fucking overtime. And I missed it. There were extenuating circumstances.

I stayed up until 2 am on New Year's Eve sipping whiskey and listening to music. The Allman Brothers, and Leonard Cohen. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Felt good. Felt right. Carol went to bed at 1:00. I was sitting in the dark sitting, listening, and reflecting.

Felt a little beat up on January 1 - my birthday - but nothing I couldn't handle. Carol and I met up with Keith for a birthday lunch. We had a great time. I had a couple of beers. So the odds were stacked against the possibility I would make it through the entire game. And I didn't.

Caught the Sugar Bowl. Another great game. Texas had a chance to win it, literally up until the last second. But they blew it.

Two huge bowl games that delivered big time on the excitement meter.

I was rooting for Alabama. I was rooting for Texas.

The championship will be played on Monday, January 8. Michigan vs Washington. Two undefeated teams. Should be spectacular.

Apparently I need to beef up my insider's knowledge of big time college football.

January 1, 2024

 "This year I will be more thoughtful of my fellow man, exert more effort in each of my endeavors, professionally as well as personally. Take love wherever I find it, and offer it to everyone who will take it.

In this coming year I will seek knowledge from those wiser than me and try to teach those who wish to learn from me. I love being alive and I will be the best man I possibly can."

Duane Allman, January 1, 1969