Were you ever so pissed off that you slammed a door. Excuse me, what did the door do to you. Slam. Fuck you! One time, way back in the early 80's when the bride and I were first married we got in an argument. I was so mad at something I can't even remember, that I slammed the front screen door so hard one of the hinges broke loose. Back then we lived in a neighborhood in which the house next door was a tad beyond arm's length proximity. Most arguments were up for all the neighbors ears to hear. I made two mistakes that day. Actually maybe three or four. The first one was to lose my cool and the second one was leave the house in a huff in a middle of a torrential rain storm. The third mistake was probably the fact that I didn't get my ass right back in the house to make some sort of amends. It's usually easy for me to blow up, throw a tantrum, and almost immediately come back to earth. But that day I decided I needed to cool off more so I walked around the block feeling pretty foolish nonetheless. Upon my return to the abode we made up and probably laughed at the stupidity of it all. The next day while I was out on the front porch fixing the hinge on the screen door, the Wayne (our neighbor) came out and asked what happened to the door. Knowing full well that he heard it all the day before...I simply said to him...it got caught by the wind during the storm. But, I just want to say a little about anger. And it has to do with this blog this afternoon during a hot and muggy Tuesday in the month of August. Anger is august. It's strong. It may go to sleep for awhile but it's capable of returning in a second's notice. Like the other day...I was about to post this snapshot along with a crazy blog that I can't even remember was about. As I was about to post it...the damn thing took a shit on me and went off into cyber heaven somewhere. I was mad...but not angry...but mad enough to not attempt to do it again that evening. I'm actually glad  I didn't break the hinges off my laptop. So today I apologize to the door...and this fucking laptop that pissed me off the other day.

I can't control you but I can control hue. But why would hue care. And why should you too. OK, I'm done pondering. Oh, so you think you are said hue. I don't like that you think you can control me. Well fuck you. Fuck you too hue. Bullshit, who the hell do you think you are, you can't control true hue, you can only control hue as projected after seeing true hue. I think you may have something there hue. And hue happens so quickly and changes so quickly it's almost impossible to capture. That may not be true, what do you think hue? I think it has to do with the light. Yes, it's how the light attaches momentarily and shifts its way towards something else so others can catch a glimpse of hue. A moment of glittering hue worth more than all the coins in sunken ships in all of the oceans. That sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me. I suppose you're right hue...but it was sure worth a try. Will you catch me on the porch in the morning for some coffee and a toasted english muffin with butter and marmalade and the cross word puzzle. Sure, you know me, I love you. I love you too hue.

ceremonies and significance. mindlessness vs. mindfulness. Already a fight has ensued. I say toemattoh. It sounds odd spiel it, but how do you spell it. c-a-t...the fucking cat is sitting just ten feet from my right eye periphery and I catch a glimpse of a tiny tail tip wagging in a begging way. I try to ignore it, but the wagging tail tip keeps on softly saying...feed me I'm your stray that you took in many years ago and you are now obligated. You didn't have to take me in, and I know too, that I didn't have to come to your house and looked lost and lonely maybe eighteen years ago...I have no sense of time...help me with this...will you...please. Fuck you asshole cat...I'm going to feed you so you'll disappear and then I'm going to get back to my blog. Besides, I wrote about this not too long ago, so why are you bothering me about it again. I'm hungry meow. The cat is fed and I'm fed up. But that's ok, I had no plot in mind. I could never write a blog that has any sort of ending.I kinda like to leave you guessing...because this is my play time.  What about you, do you like a happy ending...a sad ending...or something that leaves you hanging. I personally like an ending. When something ends too abruptly....I say to myself, I hope this isn't the end...I hope there's going to be a little blip on the screen that says...to be continued. Although, that may be more exciting than the end..or finis. What's greater, the last drop of tea, or the preparation that brought you to that moment. Or the moments that follow the sadness that the tea is gone for now and you have to clean up the mess and get ready for tomorrow's cup of tea. And the sadness that comes when you begin to realize you never liked tea to begin with. And the joy that returns in the morning when you're glad you cleaned up the mess from last night's ceremony and you have no doubt that a fresh pot of tea will be on the menu.

                  

The bride was exhausted and she said she's going to take a little nap. She had an early start and did a 5k walk/run for some local cause. Which reminds me, I never got to see the T-shirt she received for doing so. Greedily I'm thinking I hope they ran out of small sizes and gave her a large instead. Anyway, she asked me to wake her up by 3pm if she does happen to zonk out. If I forget because I got too engrossed with this blog and my imagination then I'll be the one who was napping. Naps are a weird thing. There are times when I think I need one and there are times I feel as though I should fight and transcend feeling the need. This is my lull time of the day anyway. But now I'm somewhat energized by this keyboard. I'm a morning person. Anything form 6am-1pm is fine with me...after that I slip into mellow mode. I'm functional, but seldom keen...by keen I mean doing anything even remotely productive. Of course I can rally if something is an emergency and then I rely on my old friend adrenaline. If I'm going to nap at all it'll probably be between 1-3pm. After that, it's time to walk the dogs.And the dogs are napping now. I wonder if they'll perk up around 3pm and remind me it's time to wake up the bride from her nap. I wonder if she was able to nap. I won't go in the bedroom to check her out,,,I'll just say yes...she did. Gosh, the damn vizsla just poked her head into the room where I'm sitting, walked over and stuck her cold nose on my elbow and walked away. I looked at her and thought...you dumb ass, it's only 2:45pm. I still have fifteen minutes left in this little corner of my world. So much for still life.Earlier though I was watching this rendition of "send in the clowns" that I'm going to post for you in a bit. And while watching and listening to the beautiful version I thought...geez, I wonder if I could sit as quietly as that male actor did while the lady sang. And of course I did, becuae I sat and listened. I enjoyed the the sitting and I immediately paid attention to the song after my initial thought interruption. And that attentiveness was as refreshing as a little nap. And in a sense, so was this little episode at the keyboard.

For the first seven or eight years of my life I grew up in the Walden/Lathrop neighborhood of the east side of Buffalo, NY. My parents had a paint store and right next to us was a saloon called Jakie's Grill. It's August of 1970. I missed Woodstock and I have told this story before. I missed it simply because I was going to be discharged from the US Army on August 18th, 1969 and I really didn't want to miss my discharge after spending almost three years in a god awful regimentation. (which quite honestly I didn't mind because I was able to meld) (but, I didn't want to press my luck, so therefore I wanted out) (although,the lure of woodstock fucked with my head) (and I'm glad it happened and sometimes I'm sad I missed it) (I dont't understand all these parentheses today) Carry on! Anyway, about a year after the army I was zooming by the old neighborhood past Jakie's Grill and there was my friend Jerome Jakubowski on the Lathrop side of the Grill in his garage working on his motorcycle. I stopped immediately to chat and we did a bunch of oh wows when we spanned almost 15 years of separate directions. There's two crazy things I remember about that day. The first is when Jerome asked me if I knew what month it was, and the second was whether or not I had heard of Crosby,Stills & Nash ...and really more, but I only remember a few. One when he asked me if I ever smoked pot, and then, when he turned me on, and then, when we listened to this marvelous album, and then, when he asked me if I would give he and his girlfriend a ride to her parents house in my almost new Volkswagen, and wow when we were going over the bridge which I still go over often. and wow, when I was going over that bridge, so many years ago, I thought it was the longest bridge in the world, and now even though it wasn't I still reflect on it, and I'm glad I once thought it was. Jerome died at age 26 and his almost wife to be with her cute little english accent disappeared. And why not, I can't even remember her name, and I don't think it was Judy. Regardless.

I think I should go to bed,not because I'm tired or drunk, but just to mock out me who thinks he should blog about something tonight. I wonder if I would anguish in bed going against the grain. Like being rubbed in the wrong way. A little more to the left,,,oooo that feels so good, that's it right there, keep doing it ...for the next twenty minutes...please. Excuse me, may I impolitely say, fuck you and your needs. I used to say, I need to do this, and I need to do that...as though my life would be better if I did what I thought I needed to do, but I stopped doing that...approximately a day and a half or twenty minutes ago....I'm not sure. (must I tell you that I was going to post a rascal song tonight titled how can I be sure, but ha you silly fool that would be too easy) I need to stay on task. Don't blame me, it's just that within the last ten minutes there has been been a ton of confusion in my life. And now there's none. ha ha. Let's just say, something was just made clear. Whoa, why don't I say something was made somewhat clearer. More clear. Queer how thinking makes things less clear. My cell phone just buzzed in my pocket. It was a simple text message from my daughter. Would you be able to help out. Sure. And for you too. you reader you...we don't need this text....we need nothing and more amore ha oh my god, something is bleeding...you're ok young man, your heart is just fine.

Off kilter. A bit skewed. I was thinking earlier that everything that exists must be the center of the universe. That goes for you too, low self esteem, the one who's just a clerk working the cash register at a low paying fast food place selling beef burgers that are 73% beef and 27% who knows what. I must have no conscience. I recall an event many years ago in the mid sixties. I was working in a supermarket as a stock boy. I had to cut through the meat department often to get to the back cooler to get a box of lard which for some reason was stored in the meat department cooler instead of the cooler for the dairy aisle. For you vegetarians out there that may be reading this blog...go no further...stop here. Anyway, while I was passing through the meat department I would stop and chit chat with some of the workers back there. One time I stopped and chatted with a butcher that was trimming a side of beef with what I would call a band saw. And he was throwing all the scraps he sawed into an ugly dirty old bucket. And I asked him, what are you going to do with all these scraps, sell them to a farmer so he can feed it to the pigs. And he said, no no, hang on for a bit and I'll show you what we do with it. And I held on, but not with bated breath, not with anything really, I just stood there waiting. And then, the moment arrived. And the butcher picked up this stanky bucket of scraps and grizzle and snot and shit and dumped it into this big fat grinder and not too long afterward pouring out of the snout of this grinder was a reddish/pinkish glob of fresh ground beef. And my naive youthful eyes must have thought that this was some sort of miracle because even now in the 21st century I will still once in awhile order a hamburger.Was it a pivotal event...yes, somewhat...was it central...yes, at that moment...and now too.

Orange you glad I didn't do the joke.I think my all time favorite one was boo...boo who...don't cry. But you have to cry, and when you can't maybe it's a good time to laugh. And there might be stretches when you can't do either or. And there'll be some wise person who comes along and says...this too shall pass. (I've even said it to myself and to others) (but I have stopped doing so)  Something that trite and true shouldn't be spoken anymore.By now, everybody should know that this too shall pass. It is no longer reassuring to hear those words anymore. And yet, it's true and not true at the same time.Is it true that on (make up a date and time and event) that you said, this is unforgettable. I've heard people say...I can remember exactly where I was at the time. Me too, but I also know I embellished a few things here or there as the years passed. I embellished the best days I ever had thus far and maybe even in my past lives and I've also done that with my worst days too. Today is Wednesday...have you ever heard someone refer to it as hump day? Can I hump you and then both of us try to forget it. A bomb goes off at noonish on Wednesday August something...you lose an arm while you were sitting in a cafe, there is mass confusion and you are dazed and an ambulance arrives. You are put on a stretcher & as sirens whirr whirr you go to a hospital .In the morning, there's a knock on your door....you respond by asking....who's there. Your worst fears that you can't seem to shake loose. You fall asleep. Another knock wakens you, You know better than to ask who's there. And yet you wonder if it may be joy returning. Who's there? Joy. Joy who?  And so it goes, you allowed for joy to pass and yet you yearn for her return. This too shall pass.

22, sorry you're over. Please try again.Sucker. Why don't you just quit. And be a quitter? No fucking way, I'm going to play until I win. Earlier today I was in the local convenient store and suddenly the line that I was in seemed endless but for some reason the lotto line opened up. The line that has a sign above it that says, "for lotto only." I scooted over and asked the clerk how much the mega million lottery is up to, and she said 146 million dollars. I handed her a buck and said, I'll have a quick pick and then I handed her my big bottle of beer so she could ring that out too....which is entirely ok to do if you play the lotto too. So I was quite legit in my swift move from one line to another, but I probably ended up paying an extra buck for my beer. But, along with that buck, I also have a dream, The dream of what if I were to be dumb lucky enough to win 146 millions dollars. I told the girl that plucked my quick pick out the the machine, that I would pay for her schooling, buy her a new car. buy her mom a new house, and buy this store she worked in so I could pay her fifteen bucks and hour to put up with jerks like me. She looked at my ticket and said, this might be pretty good, I have three sisters and one's birthday is on the 6th of July, the other one is o the 13th of February and the other one is on the 17th of October. And I said to her, how am I going to cover 22, 27 & 19. She smiled and said, it's up to me to find a way. I couldn't chat about it any longer because there was already three people standing in line behind me and a bunch more coming through the door. I'm enjoying the beer right now and even the thought of winning that kind of money makes me feel empty inside. But, even if I should be dumb lucky enough to win such a sum, I always have the choice of not handing it in.