One of Life's Deepest Truths

 "He who binds to himself a joy

  Does the winged life destroy

  He who kisses the joy as it flies

  Lives in eternity's sunrise"

Eternity, by William Blake

Who Is In Control?

 "If I am this solitary life within my skin why can't I control the confusion of my thoughts? No one else can do it for me."

From The English Major, by Jim Harrison

Debased and Disgraced

Every second of every minute of every day you must project confidence. 

If you do not, the world will eat you up. But before it does it will use and abuse you until, ultimately, a haunted face stares back from the mirror; dark, expressionless eyes reflecting defeat in its most debasing form - absolute loss of self.

Opting For Ignorance

 "With death we will become unknown to ourselves."

I read that somewhere. Just another layer to the reality of dying. One I do not wish to explore for many years to come.

?

 "I am at heart a scared and simple man."

From The English Major, by Jim Harrison

I wonder how many men would have the guts to admit that to a friend or family member.

What You Get

 "....it filled Payne with the joy of knowing that expressways are inhabited by artful dodgers, high handed intuitive anarchists who don't get counted but believe in their vast collective heart that the U.S.A. is a floating crap game of strangling spiritual credit."

From The Bushwhacked Piano, by Thomas McGuane

This is what you get when you read fiercely original authors. McGuane is just such an author. He is 84 years old. I discovered him last year while reading a biography of Jimmy Buffett (with deep sadness) shortly after he died. Buffett was pals with McGuane and respected his writing. I figure if Buffett liked him he is worth checking out. I've been reading him ever since.

I find a lot of authors that way. It's a cool way to explore new territory because you do not know what you are going to find. But I digress.

Did you read that sentence I quoted from The Bushwhacked Piano? What did you think?

Fucking crazy, right? You need crazy. I need crazy. Life is boring, crazy is good. Bizarre is even better.

The thing is, depending on your temperament, you either think it's fucking rubbish, you find it amusing, or you think there's really something there.

I have been reading a lot of comfort food authors lately - they soothe my brain. C.J. Box, John Sandford, Vince Flynn, James Lee Burke, Dennis Lehane - I gobble them up, they entertain me, they take me away, as Calgon bath products used to do.

But my brain requires bizarre from time to time. I gotta have it. At the very least, challenging. Piano is an acid trip from page one. You open up the book, get a good grip on the cover, and jump in with both feet until you get bucked off (if you are faint of heart). Me, I hold on.

Ever read William S. Burroughs? Holy shit - if he doesn't melt your brain, causing it to run out of your ears like rainwater through a gutter spout - then you are a tougher man than I.

It's easy to read comfort food books and that is good. They get your mind off your mind. But they don't feed your mind. An unfed mind is a dead mind.

PB&J is wonderful food, you can eat it every day in endless variations - assuming your food budget and refrigerator can accomodate 15 varieties of jelly. But after 105 consecutive days of that, you covet steak - Delmonico to be exact. You lust for it. And when you eat that steak it changes you. Suddenly you can't live without the finer things.

But, of course, you can't really afford the finer things. For Christ sake, that's why you were eating PB&J in the first place. So you settle for semi-finer things from time to time, and enjoy your comfort food just as much.

Reading challenging books is like that. You stretch your brain to the limit, as lightning and thunder rearrange your brain cells, but only temporarily.

Then you fall back on John Sandford. And love it.

But never Stephen King. I got sick of him a long time ago.

Didn't you?

One Last Shot

 The late September sun slants in through the picture window, engaging in battle with doubtful thoughts and dark imaginings.

It's a fair fight.

He shifts awkwardly in the recliner, the house unnaturally quiet, and in the space of two or three minutes moves through a range of emotions varying from baseless fear to uncharacteristic joy.

Just another uninspired Friday morning. Around 9:00 o'clock.

They pile up, these Fridays do, along with the other days of the week. Creating an intimidating  mountain of days spent, leaving a diminishing store of days to come.

He sees his future but does not act like it's real. With quiet desperation (he wouldn't want to upset anyone) he senses the acceleration of time and the slow death of options.

But the late September sun slants through the picture window with just enough spark to keep hope alive.

The days will continue to roll on relentlessly. Options will present themselves whether he recognizes them or not.

He is hoping for one last shot at redemption. He will try.

But it's warm here in the recliner, comfortable with two blankets and his cat.

He could close his eyes and drift away. Gently. No disturbance.

Which will it be?

Serenity

 "He began thinking in terms of big time life changes, of art and motorcycles, mountains, dreams and rivers."

From The Bushwhacked Piano, by Thomas McGuane.

A Good Plan

 "He suddenly saw how he would not live forever; and he wished to adjust his life before he died."

From The Bushwhacked Piano, by Thomas McGuane

Then Again.......

 My blessings outweigh my regrets.

He Tried

 When I watch Uncut Gems I get so depressed.

Because Howard Ratner is me.

Actually, it's worse than that. Ratner is better than me.

At least he fucking TRIED.

I Wholeheartedly Agree

 " I normally can't stand vice-free people. They conflate a narcissistic instinct for self-preservation with moral superiority. Plus, they suck the life right out of a party."

From Moonlight Mile, by Dennis Lehane

Sanctified

Since 7/31 my entire life has revolved around exercising and icing the knee. Three fucking times a day. No breaks. 7 days a week.

I can't eat normally because I have to exercise so often that having a pound of mac n cheese in my belly is counter-intuitive. When I want a breakfast sandwich I eat a slice of toast. When I want a cheeseburger for lunch I eat two helpings of string cheese.

I'm tired all the time so I often fall asleep in between torture sessions. My time is not my own.

Had physical therapy this past Thursday at 12:00. Typically my sessions are at 3:00. I much prefer 3:00. That way I can exercise at home twice before the PT session, then after the session I feel completely justified treating myself to a beer and a burrito when I get home. It is fucking exhilirating.

But 12:00? I seized on the opportunity to take a little vacation. I exercised in the morning then dutifully attended PT. Then I rushed home and took the rest of the day off. Made myself a magnificent ham and cheese sandwich, grabbed some chips and a beer, and sat down to watch the 2 and 1/2 hour documentary Stevie Van Zandt: Disciple.

And did not exercise for the rest of the day. It was fucking magnificent.

I chilled, I thrilled, I got wild and smiled - and felt zero guilt. Not one bit. Not one second.

That, my friend, is plugging into The Now. In A Big Way.

My soul is still lit up. No need for lights at night - I just follow the trail illuminated by my sanctified soul.

Gonna get me more of that good stuff.

Fear

 "I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear."

Frank Herbert

Is This What America Has Come To?

Apparently the next President of these United States will be the one who does not get assassinated.

What the fuck has happened to the land of the free and the home of the brave?

Freedom is being severely curtailed, and I'm seeing a lot more cowardice than bravery.

What is the fucking point?

What is the fucking future?

The Only Sane Thing

It is imperative that I learn to live in the now - NOW!

Nothing but turbulence since 10/31/2023. Ch ch ch changes. The best of which was some fellow named Jackson Joseph Testa. Which actually highlights the point of this rant.

Jackson is coming up on 6 months old. I will have to live to be 90 to see him at 20. Frightening thought. So I have to learn to live in the now. Every moment with him is precious and we definitely treat them that way. We are mesmerized. That is what matters. And when 2044 rolls around we'll see where I am at. If I don't make it, I will not have wasted one precious Jackson moment. That is critical.

But there's more.

My life has been so weird since last October. All over the map, most of it good. But the Knee Situation has tested me AND given me lots of time to think. In a weird way it has been the icing on the cake as far as introspection goes. I have been imprisoned in my home, free to consider my short-comings and obligations. And to gain some perspective.

I got a lot hanging over my head. 

We gotta deal with/worry about the money-grubbing asshole that owns this park. I need a job. I'm swimming upstream towards my true self - 7 decades of self-loathing behavior is tough to turn around. But when it happens - and it is happening - it will happen. Just like that. Carol needs a new car. I want my Lincoln and my Movado.

But, you know, man - we got it pretty good right now. The rest will come. Because I will take care of it.

So why not be happy while happiness is happening so naturally. Just dig it, baby.

I am loosening up. I'm getting better at it. Happiness no longer feels foreign to me. But I got to get to 100%. I cannot waste one second of the happiness I am living. I cannot obsess about the future - it will work out. 

Football season has started. Hockey season is right around the corner. We have new friends. and just reconnected with old friends just last week - who live in Belmont! I got Carol & Emmy Lou & Patsy, Keith & Krista & Jack, Craig & Amanda & Jackson & Murray, Eddie & Carolina, a little $ in the bank. I am fucking happy.

NOW NOW NOW

Gonna gobble it up like there's no tomorrow.

It's the only sane thing to do.

Braggadocio

 It's a lot easier to pretend to be tough on a Sunday than it is on a Monday.

Stained Pages

I have withdrawn 35 books from the town library since I moved to this very cool town.

75% have had stained pages. WTF? Green stains, orange stains, red stains, brown stains, yellow stains - are you fucking kidding me? I refuse to speculate on the origins of those stains - if I do I will end up decontaminating every book in a special purification unit costing me $2,500.

Do people disrespect free books? If so, they should be jailed. Cracks me up - everybody pisses and moans about the cost of things, but when you give them free stuff they piss on it.

My books are pristine. And I treat library books the same way - like precious gems. 

When I devour a greasy plate of baby back ribs, I don't immediately pick up a copy of War & Peace. I wash my fucking hands first.

I'm digging the library thing, man - do you have any idea how much money I've saved by not buying 35 books? Plus I enjoy going in and browsing - it's not Old Number Six Book Depot, but the tiny Belmont library still brings me peace.

But not the page stainers. They bring me no peace.

When I am elected King of the World these people will be herded up and forced to clean public toilets for the rest of their lives.

Goals, Baby - Goals

 So the plan is to kick so much ass between now and December 31, 2024, that there will be bleeding arses from here to hell and back.

Can You Believe It?

 They are telling me to love my mind.

I'm warming up to the idea.

.......or sooner

 My ultimate goal in the next ten years is to get to a place where I no longer have anything to prove.

Two Documentaries (Two Amazing Men)

Roger Federer. David Bowie.

Inside stuff, personal, intimate, emotional. Amazing documentaries.

Federer: Twelve Final Days - Documents the final twelve days before Federer went public with his retirement. It was not originally intended for public consumption - it was supposed to be a personal remembrance.

It focuses on his wife and kids, his friends, his parents - how Federer's retirement is affecting them. It zeroes on in Federer's emotions, his introspection. And it reveals the love and respect of his peers.

Tears were shed at an astonishing rate.

These are the people who were on hand to honor Federer - Rod Laver, Bjorn Borg, Andy Murray, John McEnroe, Novak Djokovic, Rafael Nadal - tennis royalty.

The last match he played was a doubles match with Nadal as his partner. Nadal was his nemesis during Federer's career but the love and respect for each other was obvious. When it was over Federer hugged McEnroe, Rod Laver, Borg, Novak Djokovic,  and others - crying through it all. At one point Nadal and Federer were sitting side by side on the court - openly weeping. Even the audience was somber.

Tears tell the truth - when it comes down to love and respect, they make a life.

David Bowie - The Last Five Years - Documents the last five years of Bowie's life. Five years in which he recorded two albums - The Next Day, and Blackstar, and oversaw the production of his broadway musical - Lazarus.

Again, a deeply personal documentary. Especially as seen through the eyes of the musicians and theatre people who worked with him, who obviously revered the man.

He was dying of cancer but kept a tight lid on that. Most of the people he was working with did not know until he could no longer hide the truth. On January 10, 2016, I was pulling into the parking lot of the liquor store where I worked when Bowie's death was announced on the radio. I was devastated.

The two albums are deeply introspective. He really digs into his past, but also offers commentary on life today. The accompanying videos are mind blowing - a man obviously dealing with his unavoidable death.

Bowie is revealed in his wholeness - not just as that guy who dressed up as....................... His approach to his career was explained, what his success meant to him, and how he used his fame to say what he really wanted to say.

Love and respect. Everyone around him had that in abundance.

Two wildly different men who accomplished the same things. They achieved success at an extraordinary level, and managed to inspire deep love and respect from the people who knew them best.

People like that make other peoples' lives better.

There is no more meaningful gift to give.

Bukowski

"The days run away like wild horses over the hills."

Charles Bukowski

I am 70 years, 7 months, and 9 days old.

The last year in my life has been magical. I can't get complacent.

I'm digging the happy, but I got more to do. I have to secure our financial security. We live in a home that we love, and in a community that we love, but there are wolves who cannot wait to rip our flesh and suck the marrow from our bones.

A flame has been lit in my soul - I need to blow that thing up to bonfire status.

I am building strength and layering strength upon strength.

In a very few months I will be 71.

The days are indeed running away like wild horses over the hills.

I'm not stopping until I get what I want. I'm not stopping until Carol gets what she deserves.

I owe her.

If Only

 If I were writing ad copy for George Dickel Tennessee Whiskey I would be tempted to be heroically creative.

No one would question my judgement because, obviously, I would be highly paid.

" Be a rugged individualist! Buy George Dickel Tennessee Whiskey. 

Become a Dickelhead!"

First Impressions Redux

I don't give a damn about any first impression I have ever made in my life up to now. 

Every first impression I have made was erroneous. Not one of those people really know who I am.

I am all about making new first impressions. With everyone I know and love.

Starting over. Just like that. It can be done. Change your mind change your life.

I have done nothing but think since July 31. Suffering and time will do that. 

And thinking has been kicked into overdrive with Carol on vacation.

Everything I do while home alone is something that nourishes my soul. No distractions, no compromises, no obligations other than to myself. Books, movies, sports, MUSIC - my soul is wide open and drinking in everything I love like a parched derelict stumbling over a wide open fire hose.

I am beating myself up with these fucking knee exercises and kicking ass. More often than not I look forward to them because they are an enormous challenge and I like defeating them. Every time I do I get stronger mentally. I can feel it happening.

Take that dynamic and add to it a soul that is being fed exactly what it wants - exactly what it fucking needs - non-stop every waking hour - and I feel like Superman.

First impressions, baby.

Blow you out of the water.

And The Joey goes To.....................

I created a new award - The Joey.

It goes to the best sports talk show on television. And the winner is................

Get Up. Mike Greenberg. Great show, no bullshit, no overblown personalities. Just good conversations and interesting debates. It's a show honestly dedicated to sports - not focused on hyping individual exaggerated personalities.

The Losers:

Zolak & Bertrand.  Sarcasm. That is the perfect word to describe the show. Everything about the show. The atmosphere, the attitude, the opinions, the conversations. They act like they are above everyone else and only their opinions matter. Nobody needs that.

First Take. Stephen A. Smith. That's all you gotta know. I watched him on Club Random - Bill Maher's "podcast" - and I actually liked him. But on First Take he is a combatant - take no prisoners. And that forces Shannon Sharpe to play defense, and to feel like he has to puff up his ego. Nobody needs that.

Felger & Mazz - Felger is a know-it-all with attitude. Feels like he goes out of his way to criticize Boston sports teams as if that makes him tough. And Mazz - such an annoying voice. There's a reason he only lasted one season in the Red Sox broadcast booth. Nobody needs that.

Around the Horn - Again, sarcasm and a sense of superiority. Plus Tony Reali's scoring system is so subjective that it is meaningless. Nobody needs that.

Good Morning Football - I actually like this show. They have a unique perspective and I like the personalities, although it has changed a lot in the past couple of years. A bit of tension between Peter Schrager and Kyle Brandt - keeps it interesting. They did not win The Joey because they do a lot of cutesy things on the show. Nobody needs that.

Honorable Mention:

PTI - I still love this show. Tony Kornheiser and Michael Wilbon. Kornheiser is 76 - 76 years old, for Christ sake - and Wilbon is 65. Not exactly the profile for today's sports talk shows. But they have a sense of humor. And good chemistry. And a unique format. Everybody needs that.

Sad But True

 "It's strange how often human beings die without any kind of style."

Guy Sajer, The Forgotten Soldier

The Knee Replacement Victim's Mantra

 Pain is weakness leaving the body.

Circumstances Change

Carol just left for vacation.

10 minutes ago.

Last few years she pops up to Salisbury Beach with Paula, Cori, Lorraine, and used to be Ronda. Ronda dropped out last year. For 3 nights 4 days.

Used to be I couldn't wait for her to leave. Used to be she couldn't wait to leave. This year is different.

It is comforting to have Carol around as I endure rehabbing the knee. To talk to, to take care of me, to take comfort in just having her around for support. To worry about me and encourage me.

I got emotional today. So did she.

I got me the Us Open to dig, I got me a Delmonico steak for a special supper, no MSNBC or local WMUR news for 3 and 1/2 days, NFL kicking off, music to listen to loud and whenever I want to.

Same as always.

But this year it is different. I am feeling alone. Already.

I am a different and a better man than before this knee thing happened. I am working hard and proud of my progress. And I am not whining nearly as much as Old Me would have done. This is tough, sometimes painful, and time consuming. And it is transforming me.

But I do have days when I am just too tired, feeling more pain than I'd like to be, when getting up to exercise one more time seems like getting up to climb Mount Everest. And on those days I do blow off steam. And Carol talks me down and encourages me and empathises with me or for me.

I am getting tougher.

But I am not whole without Carol.

Deadly Fucking Serious

 I am on a deadly serious quest.

To prove that my life has value.

Before has becomes had.