If there's ANYTHING I can do...

I have always had trouble wishing other people well when their friends and family members pass away.  I know that there is nothing I can say that is going to make them feel better, and so I usually drop a lame 'I'm sorry for your loss, you have my condolences' sort of thing.  So I really don't mind when people do that to me.  I know they're at a loss for how to respond, and that it's hard to say anything when you know it will just come off as trite and contrived.  I can sympathize.

It's the ones who tell me that, if there's anything I need, anything at all, don't hesitate to contact them...

That's kind of a trusting statement isn't it?

My ma wants me to start asking the ones who say that if they're any good with a hammer, 'cause she wants a shed put up in her yard. 
I'm thinking I should start asking the prettier ones if they would mind me busting out the nipple clamps and the rubber chicken...

Hey, you said anything right?


I know.

I know that they mean well, and I'm not trying to be mean.  But for some reason that one bothers me.

If there's anything at all!

Yes, as a matter of fact, I could really use fifteen grand to cover the funeral and a blowjob.
Anyone feel like cleaning my apartment?  Hasn't been done in half a year (since all this shit got started).  Anyone out there want to get me stoned, buy me a couple of tattoos and spend a couple weeks in nekkid debauchery reminding me of all the things that make life worth living?

No?

Guess we have different views on the word 'anything'.

But I know they mean well.

I really do.

They have no more idea of what to say in these situations than I do.

And that's the beauty and the horror of it.

Abject proof of what I've always believed, that nobody really knows what they're doing, and we're all just making it up as we go along and bullshitting.  Some of us bullshit the world, some of us bullshit ourselves, most of us do a little bit of both.  But when the chips are down and the buffalo is empty, we're all really just improvising. 

And for that I'm thankful.

(though I may just start calling in those 'anythings')

The empty spots

My sister keeps having to remind herself that she can't ask him questions about things anymore.

I keep having to remind myself not to set aside books, or videos, or interesting bits of tech for him.

My mom just sort of putters around trying to tell us that she's done with the process, that her whole interest was in the life that was led, and now that that has come to an end she's no longer worried about it...

We go over every day or two to make sure that she is still doing things like eating and showering and such.

They were together for 43 years.


My niece seems to be taking things in stride, she's sad and misses him.

The rest of us have the sadness along with a great deal of anger over the complete incompetence exhibited by some of the doctors (it's true what they say, the nurses are there to keep the doctors from killing you... only in this case there weren't enough qualified nurses)


So I'm keeping myself busy.

Restless but don't want to go back to work before the funeral because I know that it'll be months before I can take time off again, and I don't want to miss it.

The funeral home must hate us.  No embalming, brought in our own plywood casket, already have a plot lined up...

The guy always was a touch over-prepared...

Think I'm going to miss that most of all, having someone to just sit around and talk to who understood what I was talking about and didn't need things explained to him.


He said he wanted us to howl at the moon after he was gone, and hopefully on the 20th we will (assuming we're all still in the area and not working)

Seems a fitting that we should have a full moon on the summer solstice.  Though I'm in a decidedly winter solstice mood at the moment.


I always get self destructive when I'm mourning.  I think it has something to do with wanting to remind myself that I'm alive. 

Wonder what form it'll take this time (alcoholic, horndog, tattoo canvas, bar brawler, or all of the above).

25 May 2016, 4:27am

This morning I watched my father die.


My mother and my sister and I were all in the cramped little hospital room that they had assigned him, cobbling together places to sleep because none of us have really had much in the way of rest or food in the last few days. 

At about 3 we all kinda drifted off. (he'd been unconscious for most of the day)  and at about 4:26 we all woke up at about the same time.

My brother-in-law and niece (who were staying at their home a few miles away) woke up at about the same time.

And at 4:27 my father groaned, coughed a few times, rolled his eyes, and tried to say something (his lips were moving, but there was no sound coming out because he was no longer breathing).

And then he was gone.

And one of the smartest and best men I've ever had the privilege of knowing left this world forever.

12A ring

I really hate the sound of my phone ringing.

I didn't use to.

I vaguely remember a time when I looked forward to phone calls.

But I can't for the life of me remember when that was.

Helpful Hints #01

So I never got around to having kids.

The last meaningful relationship convinced me for a time that I wanted to, about three months before it ended (and that being about three years ago).  But since then I've reverted to my previous stance that I'm probably too fucking old (a position reinforced by the last half a year or so of watching my father waste away to nothing)

So I figure since I don't have kids, and don't figure that anyone's going to be interested in raising them with me at this point, I'll start a new series on this blog wherein, every so often, I'll drop a few bits of helpful info that I would otherwise have tried to pass on to my progeny...  Call it my version of dear Abby, except with more practical and realistic advice, and less answering dumbass questions from folks who can't sort out their own shit.




Anyway, Helpful Hints (ep#01)  {Masturbation, Acquired Tastes and Snob Appeal)

Always spank it (or rub one out, as the case may be) before going on a date, especially a first date. 

Ok, so this serves the same purpose as having a little something to eat before going to the grocery store.  Keeps you from making as many impulse purchases, leaves you feeling kinda sated, generally makes it easier to say no to the things that you know are bad for you. 

Always try to eat a little something before going to the grocery store.

(See above)

Try not to acquire any "acquired tastes"

Acquired taste is a nice way of saying 'it sucks, but you get use to it'. 
Now some of these acquired tastes are born of necessity.  You have to those snotty looking things in the tidal basin because there's nothing else, pretty soon you find a way to make them almost palatable, and convince your neighbors that they're a delicacy. 
OR
You're with someone who has a certain kink, you enjoy yourself,  you meet someone down the line and engage in some kinky shit with them, and so forth.
Unfortunately, many acquired tastes are expensive (and are often only acquired by people seeking the acceptance of snobs and other unsavory sorts).  You drink the expensive, oily, foul tasting liqueur because it's weird and cool, because a certain group claims to enjoy it and you want to emulate them, because it's a status symbol, etc.
Trust me, you'll be much happier if you just enjoy the things you enjoy. 
Snob appeal is the destructive hobby of a crumbling society.








 

It's kinda funny that way

I was told I'd see her once more, in the spring or the summer, and that would be it.

Silly me to assume that it would be in person, but at least it confirms what I already knew.

So it goes...








Fucking psychics
more trouble than they're fucking worth

Little bits of steel

I use to always have a knack for making things sharp.

A sort of natural precision when it came to metal.

When I was a kid my father put me in charge of sharpening the family knives...

All but my mother's, she didn't believe in sharp steel, and I'm to this day amazed that she never cut herself on the dull blades she use to force through her cooking.

But even as a child, maybe especially as a child, I could achieve an edge freehand with an oil stone that most folks couldn't replicate with several hundred dollars worth of sharpening jigs and machinery.


And I had this knack, and practiced it religiously up until just a few years ago. 

But then one day I found I couldn't put an edge on even the finest of steel.

Or I suppose it would be more accurate to say I was no longer interested in spending my limited free time in the pursuit.

This dismays me somewhat, but not overmuch as I figured it is just a symptom of my increasingly hectic life, and my deteriorating ability to compartmentalize.

Or, on further reflection, a sort of laziness.

A weakness of character that my recent years of soft living and comfortable routine have imparted.


Irritating, but not insurmountable.


But the winds are shifting, and I think I smell such a thing on the breeze as we've not seen in generations.


A catalyst approaches









 "The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.”
―Ernest Hemingway―

dollar signs and sideways 8s

Ignore the bulging around the rivets.

Ignore the creaking, straining, pinging, groaning.

Strap down the emergency valves and maintain.

Like the song says, life is but a dream.

The next one less than dust.


Embrace the impermanence,

it is the only true salvation.