Do you ever sit down to write a blog post, and nothing happens? Well, that rarely happens to me because I have an over-active imagination. Sometimes my mind strays into some bizarre areas, and I’m more than happy to share them with you.
And speaking of bizarre areas, I got this wild hair up my ass (sure glad it wasn’t a wild hare; having a rabbit up there would be worse than hemorrhoids) and decided to clean and polish all the wood furniture in our living-room: a rocker, piano bench, and most important of all, the oak home entertainment center, that houses my stereo system, TV and vinyl records, and two huge speaker cabinets. One thing that’s always been important for me is to have an ass-kicking stereo system. Ear-buds and tiny speakers with a sub-woofer just don’t cut it. I want 12 inch speakers blasting out the sound so ya can feel it. In fact, the first major purchase I made after graduating from college in 1969 was a Pioneer tuner-amp, Garrard turntable and my 12 inch speakers.
Anyway, I cleaned all that crap and decided “Hey, I’m gonna spiff-up the old turntable”. The Windex I was using to clean the glass did a good job, and was handy, might as well use it to get rid of all them greasy peanut butter laden fingerprints. Looked good. But when it came time to kick-back and enjoy the fruits of my labor in the form of a stack of albums, my turn-table didn’t work.
Shit! It would only work on 45 rpm, not 33 1/3! I figured that some of the ammonia based Windex solution seeped down into the electronics and was shorting something out. I hate it when that happens. I tried everything, even started to take it apart for a closer look. But in the end, patience (along with evaporation) worked. There’s one truism to any do it yourself job: If you fuck it up, while trying to fix something, walk away. It will heal itself.
Sure enough it worked. I was so happy, that the first thing I did was put on Dire Straits and sat down to write all about it.
I’m drawing less and enjoying it more. Thankfully, I’m not drawing-less, cause I wouldn’t enjoy having all my sketchbooks stolen. Not stolen in the sense of having your work ripped-off, or copied with out your permission, let alone not seeing any of the proceeds from its commercialization, but just gone…up and vanished.
Seems like there’s a lot of that going on these days in the entertainment industry. Sometimes I wonder if there’s been a new, original thought since the beginning of the millennium. [Not to be confused with the Biblical thousand year reign of Jesus (grown to have become quite an ass-kicker by His return). We sure ain't near that yet. The Lion is still gobbling up the lamb, instead of laying down peacefully next to it].
One’s short-term memory loss would really be challenged, if all of a sudden everything you’ve ever made just disappeared, vanished. That would sure be a lot of letting go all of a sudden. That’s why I’m drawing less these days; being very economical with line, and frugal with detail. Saving on color, and investing in simplicity.
Is everything getting ready to crash and burn; turn to shit right in front of our own eyes? Sure seems like it. While everyone is freezing their assess off in the northeast, those of us in California and the southwest are heading into our third year of drought, with no relief in sight. Governor Brown is even talking about mandatory 20% water cut-backs. How are we gonna be able to grow our own marijuana when it finally becomes legal in the ‘Golden State’? What it means for me is: more peeing outside, and more efficient use of ‘grey-water’ on my plants. The veggies will get water, but the poor lawn will remain brown for a long time.
I’m starting to get a little paranoid, and I don’t like it! I don’t like living in fear, and generally try to maintain a positive attitude. I’ve got a friend who’s an right-wing ideologue. He listens to Rush, Michael Savage and watches Fox News all the time. He fears catastrophe, be it a force of nature or some liberal conspiracy, it is just around the corner waiting to get him. And although he’s privy to all the shenanigans of the left and evils of Obamacare, it’s not making him any more happier, let alone instilling a feeling of security or peace in him. Guess if ya live in fear all the time, you become fearful.
Finding one’s voice.
Is not a matter of choice.
But something in which to rejoice.
Don’t worry. I’m not turning this into a poetry blog. I was just sitting around one night and wondering what rhymed with voice. Not a whole lot of words with oice in them. Hoist and foist are close, but have that ‘t’ sound at the end, so they really don’t count.
If I were however do go the poetry route. I think it would mainly consist of dirty limericks. Think: The man from Nantucket, or “There once was a man from Trent”. I have written a few limericks. The one below pretty much sums up my career as a PO (probation officer), but can apply to anyone who has worked in a big government agency or corporation.
There once was a PO named Stover
Who was treated worse than my dog named Rover
Many years did pass
Of taking it in the ass
So he changed his name to Ben Dover.
Some things seem to get better when they are left alone to just sit there, age and do nothing. I know I am. Non-imaginary things like cheese, wine and beer do the same thing, and in the process loosen hidden characteristics which make them rich and much to be desired (just like me also). Mellowing-out is a time to enrich your life; kick-back, chill, find your groove and relax.
I do that every night for a few hours. Sure feels nice, tuning everything out, listening to music – whole albums in their entirety. The Wife doesn’t mind. She’s busy reading Irish detective novels or playing spider solitaire on the computer. Works for me. Must work for her.
The one thing all the mutual fund companies don’t tell ya when you’re planning for retirement is how much time you’re gonna end up spending with you spouse, especially if she’s retired too. (Spouse can refer to men or women, for it’s a gender neutral or sexless term, and the longer you’ve been a “spouse”, the more sexless it becomes). Both of you are gonna be home…all the time.
Sometimes I think, “I gotta get outta the house”. The Wife probably thinks the same thing too. Maybe that’s why I still work, or more accurately go to work. It’s not like I love what I’m doing or anything. It’s just a place to go, and, see other people (even if they are former co-workers who I can’t stand). Our solution is to allow each other time with their friends. She gets to go out with “the girls”, and I get to hang-out with my buddies, even go on fishing trips.
I don’t know what got me on to all of that. Time to re-commence mellowing out, and listen to some Jethro Tull.
That sounds like a pretty cool title. Unfortunately, I was unable to come up with more that just that. Although I certainly don’t have a ‘style’ when it comes to my wardrobe, I guess I do when it comes to drawing and writing. That is if you consider sloppy draftsmanship and incoherent babbling a style. I consider them more of an affliction.
Affliction is a strange term. Sounds biblical to me. Something that might happen if you’re an Egyptian or worshiper of Baal. It’s definitely not something one chooses, but is forced upon you, often in mysterious ways (God’s favorite modus operandi). And like a good mystery, you never know who done it till the end.
Anyway, here’s some new work. In a different style, but still the same old stuff.
Don’t ya just sometimes wish that things were weight-less and could float in the air before your eyes, and if ya wanted to, make them float over to you so you wouldn’t even have to move a muscle to get them? I sure do, especially when I’m nearly horizontal on my Lazy-Boy recliner. I know, sounds like total geezer heaven. But that’s what happens if you’re on a space station where there’s no gravity except for the movie. I wonder if that’s what it means to be ‘spaced-out’?
Most of my drawings consist of stuff floating around in a spacial area. I call them hallucinations, but they’re really not hallucinations, just imaginations I’ve seen when in a dream-like state with my eyes closed (best way to see things). In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a real hallucination before. But then again, if I had, it would have seemed so real that I’d never think it to be a hallucination, but just boring old reality gone berserk.
Maybe everything is a hallucination. A distortion, perceived, not as it truly is, but filtered by our likes and dislikes; what we desire vs. what we detest. I do that a lot: love it, hate it. Reminds me of that old slogan, “America – Love it or leave it.” Back in the sixties I loved America so much that I joined the National Guard so I wouldn’t have to leave it and get my ass shot in Vietnam. [mother-fuckers]
It’s a good thing that WordPress only has a Like button, and not a Dislike button. It would be very interesting if they did. Then you’d find out how many people thought what ya wrote was a total waste of time, and wound up so pissed-off they were too speechless to even make a comment, but had the common courtesy to say they stopped by. [My stats would soar, and maybe I could have the most unpopular blog on the internet]. It would be like saying, ‘fuck you’ without having to be a gross potty mouth by using the f-word.
A dislike button would be good for the TV too. But sadly that is yet to happen. Guess I’ll just have to use the red ‘power’ button on my remote whilst softly uttering a dis-approving fuck you.