FRIday,
Well, another day passed by . . . almost. Still have 24 minutes left in this wk's Friday. It's raining. A hard but very silent storm. I wouldn't have noticed it at all if it was not for the electricity blinking on and off. Played hell with TV. I was just booting the Cox box up when I caught sight of a flash of white light outside the window.
The frat boys next door are howling at the moon, which is odd since there is no moon just rain and lightning. Very little thunder. A mime storm! Anyway, frat boys' lunar-lunacy isn't caused by heavenly bodies. Their moon shimmers in the bottom of a Bud Light beer can.
Tomorrow is SoonerCon. Getting up at 10am! YES! Out the door by 11 with the hope of hitting the Midwest City hotel where the convention is held around the time that people are wondering off for lunch. That's the best way to get a parking spot. David doesn't agree, though. He's already complaining about taking too much time last year driving around the parking lot and waiting on someone give up a space! David just goes to SoonerCon because I like to go. I tell him I can get someone else to drive me down there but . . . NO! I think he thinks it's his job. {smile}
SUNday, June 24, 2o18
The frat boys next door are howling at the moon, which is odd since there is no moon just rain and lightning. Very little thunder. A mime storm! Anyway, frat boys' lunar-lunacy isn't caused by heavenly bodies. Their moon shimmers in the bottom of a Bud Light beer can.
Tomorrow is SoonerCon. Getting up at 10am! YES! Out the door by 11 with the hope of hitting the Midwest City hotel where the convention is held around the time that people are wondering off for lunch. That's the best way to get a parking spot. David doesn't agree, though. He's already complaining about taking too much time last year driving around the parking lot and waiting on someone give up a space! David just goes to SoonerCon because I like to go. I tell him I can get someone else to drive me down there but . . . NO! I think he thinks it's his job. {smile}
SUNday, June 24, 2o18
Yes! Yesterday was SoonerCon for me, and it was a crazy wonderful day filled with fantasy, monsters, comic book and anime characters and . . . Artists. Lots of fantasy/sci-fi/horror writers and illustrators and make-up artists. I'm tellin' ya, SoonerCon is my Disneyland, and David Slemmons is that dad who doesn't really want to go, gut is stupid kid doesn't drive so, what the hell! I think he does have a good time, especially when he runs into an old friend that he can talk to about music and the "good old days" as his freaked out kid runs from booth to booth checking out all the neat super hero drawings, the wonderful horror masks and the dazzling Cosplay costumed characters! I am in nerdvana.
Particularly fun was talking to the writer J.O. Young. She's written a dystopia novel series titled Freaks! Oh, yeah, baby. The title alone is enough to get my intellectual creep running. But checkout the book cover. Click on the picture if the cover art is to small to see. I mean to buy a copy but when we were ready to go home after 2 hours SoonerCon I forgot all about it. But no worry. I can get a copy of the first book online although I'd would have liked to buy it directly from the author.
All the authors I talked to were so young! Well, maybe not really young but at seventy they looked like ten years old. And Accomplished? J.O has . . . okay, I don't know how many books she's written though I'm sure she told me and I'm SURE she's written a lot. Anyway, here I am at seventy STILL trying to put together and get published my first book of poetry. Am I Jealous? No. Just astounded by how much J.O. (and the many other young authors I ran into at the Con) has accomplished in such a short period of time.
And then there are the
Cosplayers! Oh, so many! AND so much variety. Lots of Star Wars of characters as well as Doctor Who, anime characters . . . and most of them I don't recognize because I don't know a lot of anime . . . and groups of people, people interested in sci-fi and fantasy and . . . there was a family there dressed as different characters from different stories, anime and movies . . . ! Okay, now I'm rambling. Anyway, if you've never gone to SoonerCon, you should! Next year's Con is going to be here in Norman -town! Yeaaaaaaaa! I told David he needs to get that bicycle he keeps saying he's going to get. He asked why. "Hey, because next SoonerCon in Norman-town we can ride I bikes to it instead of driving to it in the car." He said nothing in response. {smiles}
MONday, June 25, 2o18 . . . 4:00am
It's raining. A pretty hard rain at times. there's thunder to. Rolling thunder, far off. When I was a kid, I saw this cartoon about angels in heaven having a bowling day. The bowling ball would roll down the heavenly lane and when they hit the pins there's be a flash of lightning and a big boom of thunder! I don't know how old I was when I saw this cartoon . . . but I always remembered it when as a kid a thunderstorm would roll in. I never feared thunderstorms as a kid because I knew they couldn't hurt me because . . . hey, it was only angels bowling.
"Thunder is the sound caused by lightning. Depending on the distance and nature of the lightning, it can range from a sharp, loud crack to a long, low rumble (brontide). The sudden increase in pressure and temperature from lightning produces rapid expansion of the air surrounding and within a bolt of lightning." -Wikipedia
When I became an adult (or a reasonable facsimile of one), I learned that thunder and lightning didn't erupt in the sky from angels were bowling. No, I learned the definition of thunder and lightning that was more . . . scientific . . . more realistic. Yeah, you learn a lot of things when you grow up, no Santa Claus, no dang Easter bunny, and hey, life isn't fair . . . all that correct knowledge. Rather boring and uninteresting. So, I tend to believe . . . no, I choose to believe science is wrong . . . sometimes, at least when it comes to thunderstorms. Far more interesting to believe that it IS caused by enthusiastic angels drinking beer and bowling.
2:30pm
yawned my way out of a pleasant dream (I say it was pleasant though I don't remember it at all) around 10am. Greeted the TV news with a fond click, click, click of the remote, warmed up last nights coffee . . . closed my eyes and thought about . . . I fell back into sleep, into some other dream (I think it was another dream) and woke up finally at 11am.
I should do something, you know, with my life. Something so profound for society that when I'm dead they will set aside one day in the year to celebrate my contribution to existence. I'll get on that . . . maybe tomorrow.
As a child in grade school I had the most difficult time trying to remember how to spell tomorrow. I don't know why but my write hand kept writing it as t-o-m-m-o-r-o-w. Isn't that something? I still do it every now and then . . . t-o-m-m-o-r-o-w. Maybe this spelling mishap is due to my love of the elongated m sound. Mmm. The yummy sound, the sound a shy person utter during the love making process. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm . . .
THursday, June 28, 2o18
My friend is so upset about what's going on in American politics that he's seriously thinking about moving to another country. That would be a bad idea. I mean, he would still have to take me to Walmart and the movies every week . . . or more . . . The commute from Norway to Norman, OK? Yikes! Though I joke, sort of, the fear the depression that many of my friends are feeling about "That Guy in the White House" and that he got his travel ban on Muslims okayed by a predominately conservative Supreme Court bummed a lot of us out. AND just yesterday Justice
Anthony Kennedy decided to retire,
WHICH means there will be another opening on the Supreme Bench and . . . well, TGWH is already grinnin' like a hound in the chicken coop . . . he plans to put a hardcore conservative in that spot . . . a YOUNG hardcore conservative so he can have the Constitution rewritten to serve the need and greed of the far right conservative. And people are scared shitless. I got lots of friends who have already "got out of Dodge" for the politically greener pastures of other countries. One guy just left for England swearing that he'll NEVER step foot in America again; I few other had headed out for Canada a long time ago. But you know what I think? Bullshit to that. Your responsibility as an America is to stand up and fight for America not run off to some foreign country, FIGHT for America against its enemies both foreign AND domestic.
FRIday, June 29, 2o18
"Iron is full of impurities that weaken it; through forging, it becomes steel and is transformed into a razor-sharp sword. Human beings develop in the same way." -Morihei Ueshiba
The line at the movie theatre's concession stand is not long, but there's only on person at the counter and the grandmother he is waiting on have 5 kids with her ranging from 6-12 years old. And they really don't need any more sugar. And the grand mother is buying them all snacks for the movie (probably The Incredibles 2) and she asks them individually, one at a time what each wants. "I want nachos and a coke," says the 6 year old that can't help but swing around on the pole that separates one concession line from the other . . . and guy goes to get the nachos and the coke (which the kid doesn't need) and I'm counting the number of kids she has and I think I'm gonna be stuck in this purgatory of snackeries forever. Ah, but another employee opens an other register . . . GOOD! I can go over . . . but as soon as they see the cashier, the long line of people behind me run over to the other line leaving me like the cowards that they were. "John! Get over here!" Grandma yells at the bigger boy. And he takes his time looking at the menu board and I want to scream, "You little fuck! Pick something and get on with it!"
And then I remember the saying I placed at the top of this Friday post. I had just read it, right before David picked me up to go Sicario. And I realized that this was my moment in the forge. Facing not being in control of a moment. So, I start to look at things around the theatre, studying the posters, the people next to me in the other line who aren't going to let me in their line even though I've been standing here in Granma's line before they even walked into the theat . . . Okay, NO! that's not what I'm suppose to be doing. I'm suppose to be learning how to curb my anger . . . rid myself of the impurities that I've picked up a long the way.
SATurday, June 3o, 2o18
It's difficult to change "your ways." The thoughts inside your memory were carved into the gelatin, that soft, gray tissue that we call the brain, and re-forged by every experience that laid a boot on ya. Good memories are there too, but more ghostlike, like air, you can feel them occasionally but they don't carry the weight of a bad memory so they become inconsequential, more dreamy as if they'd never existed. The bad memories . . . nightmare created . . . they run the show. Backstage. In the dark, behind the black curtain legs. You know the term ghost light? It's an incandescent floor lamp placed in the middle of the stage so you can walk about, in the dark and see just enough so you don't fall off the stage into the orchestra pit. My conscious self is that ghost light, and when it goes out . . .
Just the other day an old joke popped into my consciousness. There once was a blind carpenter who picked up his hammer and . . . saw. Maybe that's it. Maybe that's the trick. Maybe the only way to find peace is to be blind to everything, to all those memories and dreams. If I could stop visualizing the past, it wouldn't have such a profound hold on me. Be blind and see.
I once looked inside of my skull.
It was nothing like what I thought;
it wasn't grey and mushy, I must say,
it was more sand colored like rain
left over from this morning's storm,
muddy thought-prints around the edges,
its rocky edges, and silently faceless
clouds swam through the breeze.
Yes, there was a steady, snoring
breeze, and I am sure, so sure
this must be heaven.
All the authors I talked to were so young! Well, maybe not really young but at seventy they looked like ten years old. And Accomplished? J.O has . . . okay, I don't know how many books she's written though I'm sure she told me and I'm SURE she's written a lot. Anyway, here I am at seventy STILL trying to put together and get published my first book of poetry. Am I Jealous? No. Just astounded by how much J.O. (and the many other young authors I ran into at the Con) has accomplished in such a short period of time.
And then there are the
MONday, June 25, 2o18 . . . 4:00am
"Thunder is the sound caused by lightning. Depending on the distance and nature of the lightning, it can range from a sharp, loud crack to a long, low rumble (brontide). The sudden increase in pressure and temperature from lightning produces rapid expansion of the air surrounding and within a bolt of lightning." -Wikipedia
When I became an adult (or a reasonable facsimile of one), I learned that thunder and lightning didn't erupt in the sky from angels were bowling. No, I learned the definition of thunder and lightning that was more . . . scientific . . . more realistic. Yeah, you learn a lot of things when you grow up, no Santa Claus, no dang Easter bunny, and hey, life isn't fair . . . all that correct knowledge. Rather boring and uninteresting. So, I tend to believe . . . no, I choose to believe science is wrong . . . sometimes, at least when it comes to thunderstorms. Far more interesting to believe that it IS caused by enthusiastic angels drinking beer and bowling.
2:30pm
I should do something, you know, with my life. Something so profound for society that when I'm dead they will set aside one day in the year to celebrate my contribution to existence. I'll get on that . . . maybe tomorrow.
As a child in grade school I had the most difficult time trying to remember how to spell tomorrow. I don't know why but my write hand kept writing it as t-o-m-m-o-r-o-w. Isn't that something? I still do it every now and then . . . t-o-m-m-o-r-o-w. Maybe this spelling mishap is due to my love of the elongated m sound. Mmm. The yummy sound, the sound a shy person utter during the love making process. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm . . .
THursday, June 28, 2o18
FRIday, June 29, 2o18
"Iron is full of impurities that weaken it; through forging, it becomes steel and is transformed into a razor-sharp sword. Human beings develop in the same way." -Morihei Ueshiba
And then I remember the saying I placed at the top of this Friday post. I had just read it, right before David picked me up to go Sicario. And I realized that this was my moment in the forge. Facing not being in control of a moment. So, I start to look at things around the theatre, studying the posters, the people next to me in the other line who aren't going to let me in their line even though I've been standing here in Granma's line before they even walked into the theat . . . Okay, NO! that's not what I'm suppose to be doing. I'm suppose to be learning how to curb my anger . . . rid myself of the impurities that I've picked up a long the way.
SATurday, June 3o, 2o18
It's difficult to change "your ways." The thoughts inside your memory were carved into the gelatin, that soft, gray tissue that we call the brain, and re-forged by every experience that laid a boot on ya. Good memories are there too, but more ghostlike, like air, you can feel them occasionally but they don't carry the weight of a bad memory so they become inconsequential, more dreamy as if they'd never existed. The bad memories . . . nightmare created . . . they run the show. Backstage. In the dark, behind the black curtain legs. You know the term ghost light? It's an incandescent floor lamp placed in the middle of the stage so you can walk about, in the dark and see just enough so you don't fall off the stage into the orchestra pit. My conscious self is that ghost light, and when it goes out . . .
I once looked inside of my skull.
It was nothing like what I thought;
it wasn't grey and mushy, I must say,
it was more sand colored like rain
left over from this morning's storm,
muddy thought-prints around the edges,
its rocky edges, and silently faceless
clouds swam through the breeze.
Yes, there was a steady, snoring
breeze, and I am sure, so sure
this must be heaven.
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