In The Dark

They are in the dark on this. Let's keep them in the dark on this. What is our cover story? We have to put a positive spin on this. I want everybody in this office on message. Now let's get out there and inspire the troops. Who's our point man on this? I don't want anybody breaking rank. Solid wall of denial. Counterattack with reverse psychology. Misdirect. Paint the other side as the instigators. Vehemently deny assertions of misconduct. Establish plausible deniability. Keep 'em guessing. That was the way my predecessor did it. I did not know that was going on within my department. Rogue elements. Apologize profusely if caught. Claim it was an error in judgement and vow to move forward differently than before. Claim that you did not know about it, even if it was very, very close to you. Meet in secret. Push through legislation. Downplay the opposition. Smirk. Laugh. Ask for absolution from the church. Be forgiven. Entrust the process to your acolyte. Step down, be pushed aside, be forced out, accept a lesser role within the organization. Return to public life. Have your lawyer appear to be outraged, claiming that his client will be absolved of all these nonsensical allegations. 

Never ends. The avoiding and evading.

(On cell, inside limo) “Who’s in the loop on this one?”

Andre Benz- Unsplash.com

The more I observe the behaviour of politicians and our two political parties the more I start to see that they really represent two ordinary factions, the ones that this country and all others are built upon, which is ages old. Management vs. employees. 
Managers claim to promote jobs but will never work at one. They espouse the nobility of work but will always be the ones leaning on the golden shovels at the groundbreaking ceremony and will disappear until reappearing at the ribbon cutting ceremony. No way are they going to get their hands dirty, strain their backs, or work a shift. That is for the lesser people, the ones other than management. 
  Now managers are necessary in a properly functioning society, somebody has to oversee the process, the operation, the system, the event, in order for it to run smoothly for decisions have to be made. People have to be in a position to make decisions because if things are left to a committee forget about anything getting done in a timely manner. 
    But, managers, being close to the decision making process, have temptation after temptation thrown at them. They have foreknowledge aplenty, which can be used for personal gain. They can get in on the ground floor and set themselves up in the catbird seat quite easily, the only thing standing in their way being pushover things like morals and ethics which they claim to have but (look to what was written above) as to how they handle that. 
'Watchdogs' are touted as countermeasures put in place to curb appetites and ‘ethics councils’ are sometimes present to oversee things but really, in the present political climate, what a joke. 

So, expect more of the same from the same public figures, some of whom claim to have God on their side. Well, if GOD can't fix this, what can ordinary mortals do? seems to be the issue facing us 'employees'. More like God Help Us. 
But methinks the present-day brash behavior is actually the end of a long lifting and peering under the rug period, where We The People are witness to what's been lurking there all along. So let it all hang out, governors, managers, go hog wild! Disgust the populace so much that accountability will be demanded by the employees because nobody is going to buy your multitudinous excuses anymore and those precious votes you need won't be granted at any price.

Three Years In Paradise

         It's been a little over three years, to be exact, that I've been in 'paradise', and I don't say that in a facetious way, but there are some things aspiring paradise dwellers would be benefited in knowing. 
First of all, my experience in paradise won't be yours. You will have your own. Second, I haven't been around long enough to see the span of decades, so I don't fit that mold of paradise dweller, which some do, and neither am I connected in a generational way. I'm just a visitor that has happened to stay for a very long time. 
I've been lucky enough to live my dream of living in paradise and today, walking the beach, while looking back to where I was at mentally when I first landed to where I am now, a sort of wistfulness came over me for I have changed since then. I'm not in a hurry to get anywhere, and haven't been for a long time, but the tourists certainly are. They have sand draining from their hourglasses and so must pack in a multitude of experiences in a very short time whereas I have all the time in the world. The difference between me and them is Grand Canyon-ish in that regard. 
However, looking back, I definitely know what they are experiencing. They came here from some frosty place on The Mainland and were upon arrival met by a balmy breeze. Leaving the airport they marveled at and pointed out to their companions the numerous free range chickens running about, and were eager to make their way to the ocean, the beach, and the chair there awaiting them, a chair similar to the one I parked in for two straight weeks upon my arrival. 
Back then sunsets were worth sticking around for and many a nearly naked body did I eagerly observe, some amazing in their tightness and physical beauty, others best left covered. You just don't see that sort of thing anywhere else! 
I imagined that were I to while my days away in that way I would be perfectly content but found that you can only hang at the beach for so long. Sooner or later you have to pack up and leave.

His version of paradise

Jason Briscoe- Unsplash.com

Tourists have no problem doing that, it's expected, they run around, here, there, everywhere. Restaurant, guided tour, snorkel excursion, helicopter ride, luau. They drive every inch of the island in their rental cars, or slowly cruise the strip. Fine dining or local fare is daily sought out, and the next brings the same until their vacation time is exhausted. Once their time in paradise is up they fly 'back to reality' but my stay in paradise is indefinite so I go back to work. 
I'm glad to be working for without that I would be hard pressed to oh, fill up the preponderance of time each day brings. I would eat too much, watch too much TV, start hitting the beach at dawn or some crazy hour for the morning jog, read every book known to man, or take yoga classes. Paradise, you see, can only be taken in doses for it is very rich food. It needs to be balanced with leaner fare. 

Her version

Jakob Owens- Unsplash.com

Why? Because living in paradise you find you need contrast. For example, if it's the same temperature every day- which it is- you don't notice it anymore, do you? 
One thing about living where I do is that we're so far south that there really is no change in seasons. Is it The Fourth of July- or Christmas? Who can tell? There is little variation throughout the year between the hours of light and dark so there is no need for Daylight Savings Time. Think about it- no long summer evenings, no early winter darkness. Always the same. No contrast. 

I've got a notion to turn this line of thought into a series because a lot can be said about living in paradise, and a lot of people come here, so they might want to know what it's like to be a resident instead of the others- the 'ten days and gone' people, the 'three days on this island and four on another' people, and the 'people with kids in tow' who hit the island like a whirlwind of noise and constant tracking (and feeding) of kids and what they're up to and never really experience anything else but that. Believe me, I've seen it. 
So. More to come, when the muse beckons me to fill in these many blanks of:  (what It's like to live) Three Years In Paradise.

Gulp

Ideas for today's topic float through the air, thought bubbles that contain varying numbers of words that lead to concepts, or completed works, but none compel. Nothing is pressing to be articulated but wait! Upon the wind this one comes....

  "Who are you? What are you about? Where are you going? And why?”

We think we know where we're going (or I where this is going) but we do not in actuality know where we are going because in actuality we know very little about what is actually going on. So we presume. A lot. There is so much that we don't know that it is mind boggling yet in order to comfort ourselves in the vastness, we focus our attention on our immediate surroundings and never look up at the stars for long because if it's a clear night and you do, everything else drops away, doesn't it? You look up at those points of light, unfathomable distances away, go "Oh S---!"  and then scurry into the house to put Sportscenter on after which you exhale a sigh of relief and say to yourself "Whew! I'm back in the known!".

That doesn't change the stars one bit, they're still there.

Existential Percipience

Vincent Chin- Unsplash.com

If you work day shift a lot and you're home at night watching TV or whatever you're not really cognizant of that looming vastness just outside your locked front door but if you work night shift.....
....oh my! Not a night shift where you're in a building all evening and never go outside, no, a night shift where you are outside a lot and with nothing much to do, which is the case for a lot of night shift workers, you're just manning the place 'cuz somebody has to do it and you don't have enough seniority to have things your way so you spend a lot of time with the moon and the planets and the stars, looking at them, but that's not really it either. 
  What really drives the remembrance of the vastness is when you get off of work, like I do sometimes, and it's utterly still outside and the weather is such that the sky is not the least bit hazy and in all their glory the stars and Milky Way stand revealed and just glancing at the panorama you feel helplessly small and immediately wonder "How in the hell did all of this happen?" and "Where is my place in this?" and all that but you can only take so much. It's just too freaky to stand out there looking up because you know you're going back there someday and that puts a bit of humility in you, quivers the knees, and makes you review your performance during your time on stage today. A time of reckoning is going to come for you (but thankfully not this day!) because whatever created those stars and that vastness is intelligent beyond comprehension and probably won't waffle one iota away from absolute truth, which is sooo unlike the human realm, where everything can be explained away.

The stars stand waiting.

Gulp!

Grimstone Manor, Part II

It came to my attention that Alexander Crickston and Sir Loathsome had more to say. Let's tune in:

      “Reality?!” shot back Alexander. "I want no more of your mundane and decrepit reality! I seek to elevate myself higher than what I've previously known as 'living' conditions. Squalor and debauchery may be your chosen station in life, Sir Loathsome, but 'tis not mine anymore. I have caught a glimpse of a more polished and refined world, one which I seek to inhabit for the remainder of my days". 
   "That’s the Alex that I used to know" responded Sir Loathsome. "The one that had a little bit of fire in 'im."
   "A fire passionate in the extreme to distance myself from you and your kind" Alex replied. "Driver, make haste for Grimstone Manor!"
     "See ya wouldn't wanna be ya" hollered Sir Loathsome, but by then the clatter of horses' hooves all but drowned out his final jab.
"My, my, my. There’s a changed man" Lord Chuggleston, one of Sir Loathsome's mates, glumly said. 
"Aye" muttered another, Lady Hampton. "Don't drink the water in Scotland!"
"How long do you think he'll be that way?" growled a third, Earl Smithfield-on-toast. 
"No telling" Sir Loathsome spoke as if he was wondering, which was something he rarely did, for he did not wonder about many things. "I'm afraid our old friend has taken up a new way and left the known and well understood behind. His is a path of exploration, of finding what works and what doesn't. We are all called to stray from the Cock and Bull occasionally, in search of that which might otherwise comfort us, until we regain our senses and return home."
    "The Cock and Bull is our home?" Lord Chuggleston blurted.
    "It must be. We spend so much time here!" Lady Hampton retorted, matter of factly. 
    "There's no better home for me" Earl Smithfield-on-toast replied. "I have no desire to go anywhere else. Not even over to the Coat O' Arms, which is only a block away"
    "When you know it, when you know where home is" Sir Loathsome spoke for all of them, "you are content. Alex has not found home yet, and so he must search for it. I'm glad I'm not in his shoes!"

Breakfast is served!

Madelon-Unsplash.com

And so many a year passed, and Alexander Crickston lived somebody else's dream, which he thought was his. He followed in his father's footsteps and became a quite successful and accomplished businessman. His wife loved him dearly, and his four children adored him, for he slavishly devoted all his time and efforts towards furthering their desires but then one day, one fateful and totally unforeseen day, as Sir Loathsome had predicted, Alexander Crickston woke from sleep and for the first time in decades, asked himself "What the hell am I doing with my life?" The first hints of depression had landed in Alex's mind, and there were more to come. 
He tried to push them away but the instances where he fluctuated between happy and not became more and more pronounced. His family and business could provide no cure for this malaise so he took, upon his doctor and family's pleadings, a long overdue sabbatical and went a'wandering.
Across England and Scotland he went, searching for something, he knew not what, and one day he was close enough to his old home town of Everton to drop in- if he dared. Something compelled him to do so and so he wandered through the town, even stopping trepidatiously in front of the door of his old haunt the Cock and Bull to possibly pay his old friends a visit. 
But, even after mustering up the courage to go inside and in an incognito way see if anybody he recognized was there, what he found when he entered was that nobody he even remotely knew was in there. The pub was also under new ownership and its interior had been so redecorated as to be almost unrecognizable. 
The utter inability to touch base with anything from his past piqued his curiosity so he started asking around, trying to find out what had happened, for he had been away for a very long time. 
It was a contact at the local golf links that was able to provide some information, a man name of Tom Pinch, who was a distant relative of old Mr. Whatley, now deceased.
"Your gang disbanded" Mr. Pinch relayed, "about ten years after you left for London and your financial career. Sir Loathsome, I believe that was the name you called him, got killed in a pub fight over a spilled pint of Guinness that interrupted a critical dart's match final. Made all the papers. After that, Lady Hampton disappeared for some time, then reappeared, a shady figure of the same gender from the south of France on her arm, and Lord Chuggleston hit a big jackpot down at the betting shop, which increased his intake of drink for awhile before he went into rehab. He runs marathons now and competes all over the world in his age group, which is quite high"
"Amazing!"
"Yes. Who ever would have thunk it? Smithfield-on-toast then died unexpectedly after a minor bout of Hong Kong flu but he left a wife and daughter. They're doing quite well. Mrs. Smithfield-on-toast is an artist, and her daughter lives in Wales, I think. You might want to talk to Mrs. Smithfield-on-toast- she lives right here in town"
"I think I will. What is her address?"
"I don't know exactly. She's next to the breakfast shop on Trent. Ask at the shop if she's in, she spends a lot of time there"

Everton, village of

Annie Spratt- Unsplash.com

    Off Alexander went to the shop, and indeed the widow of Smithfield-on-toast was there. Her name was Nancy. 
"Oh- so you're Alexander" she said upon meeting him. "I heard a lot about you. The gang talked about you a lot"
"They did?"
"Oh yes. Pined for you, they did. Lamented that you had gone".
"Oh". The memory of his times with the gang had been so long ago that this hardly registered in Alexander's highly logical brain, but something deep inside became stirred by the news. "I never really missed them"
"That's the way it goes" Nancy said sadly. We never seem to appreciate people at the time we are lucky enough to have them"
"Lucky enough?" Alexander scoffed. "It was a amusing time, but an uncomfortable and disgusting one as well. I've no fond memories of it"
"All the pity to you then" Nancy replied. "You've yet to find home"
"I've a fine home, thank you very much"
"Nah, ya haven't" Nancy replied. "Home is everywhere you are in every moment that you live. It's in appreciating whatever is going on around you and trusting that there's a bigger plan. I can see in you that you've got a bit of wandering left to do. Wander then and while you're doing so, see if you can find home in any of that"
"What a confounding statement!" Alexander thought, and then after a brief bit of garnering more local trivia, he bid impertinent Nancy adieu.
  "What in the blazes does she know?!" he muttered to himself while walking briskly down cobbled Trent lane, a possibly very long road ahead of him.

Grimstone Manor

  A knock came upon the door. Reginald, the butler, opening it, peered out at a figure he had difficulty recognizing for a moment in the darkness. Ah, he knew this man.
     "Good evening sir. What brings you to Grimstone at this late hour?"
"A matter of great importance, to which I am unable to divulge details. Is Sir Crickston about?"
"He is asleep sir" "
"He must be wakened. The matter is of extreme urgency"
Reginald strode away as fast as a dignified butler could and soon Sir Crickston appeared, not quite awake, but conscious enough to appraise the matter he would soon be presented with. 
    "Whatley? What is the matter? For what reason am I I aroused from fitful sleep?"
   "A carriage containing your son has overturned on the brewery road. He was injured, as were others"
   "How is he affected?"
   "A broken leg, to which he has received a cast, and a blow to his head, to which he has received stitches. He is in hospital"
   "Reginald! Gather my cloak and cane. We're off to St. Elias at once!"

    A mere two hours later they were in the local village and entering the door of St. Elias hospital. "Sir Crickston!" gasped the nurse on duty at the sight of the esteemed personage. "Right this way!"
    Led down a nearly silent corridor, they came soon upon Sir Crickston's son's room. He was propped up in bed, and, as the nurse had relayed during their walk down the hallway, still under the effects of the sedative the doctor had administered. 

Take me to the ER!

Patrick Schneider- Unsplash.com

"Hiya pops! Guess I f___ed up again" Sir Crickston's son emitted.
  "He never speaks in such a vulgar manner!" an alarmed Sir Crickston muttered to the nurse. "The effects of the sedative! If we could be left alone...."
    "Most certainly, Sir Crickston!" the nurse said as she backed up, then exited the room. 
    Sir Crickston turned his attention back to his son. 
"Doctor Dobbs said you would make a complete recovery. I passed him on the way in. Alexander- what were you doing at the brewery with those wretched 'friends' of yours? I have cautioned you time and again that they are merely a gang of ruffians and will do nothing to further the ambitions or social standing of the Crickston family. They will only add to its detriment! Word gets around, you must at the very least be able to understand that. Already families of distinction are distancing themselves from involvement in our social affairs. You are incorrigible!
  I have half a mind to disown you!"
"Disown me, then, father! I will be the better for it!"
"Drugs are in possession of your mind" Sir Crickston replied. "Your ability to reason has been compromised"
"I am firmly in control of my faculties and I say again, disown me! Free me from your life of dull parties and limpid society gatherings! I have much more fun with the lower classes at the breweries, pubs, and dance halls in town. I have a surprise for you, father- I have recently asked the cigarette girl at the Cabana Club for her hand in marriage"
    "You can't be serious!"
  "I am"
   "This will bring you to ruin! No son of mine will be allowed to marry a club girl!"
   "I can, I will, and I don't care!"
   "Impetuous youth! Enough of this! I shall have, as soon as you are able to be moved, a task for Reginald and some others of the estate staff. You shall be forcibly removed to our families' second estate, Dragoon. Once there placed, on the distant Scottish moors for the summer, you, through reeducation, will again begin to learn and appreciate your postion in society!
  "I shall not be removed!"
  "Even now agents under my employ have barred any means of your escape. You will follow your father's wishes!"
"Argghh!!!"

And so it came to pass that young Alexander was expatriated to Scotland for the longest summer of his young life. Upon his return home, he slowly started to pass the brewery in his carriage and while doing so, gave nary a glance at his old friends, who saw him and pleaded with him to join them. 
"I shall not!" Alexander shouted out. "I am a changed man! I read the good book daily, am courting a sweet and polite member of my standing as my future wife, and have studied the means of accounting and business so that I may soon take up duties at my father's firm. I shall n'er see the likes of you again!"
"What the f___ happened to you?" challenged 'Sir Loathsome', the former leader of Alexander's run-around crew. "Have you gone insane?”
  "Ha ha" chuckled Alexander. "I see your choice of vernacular is still the same- coarse. I, my old 'associate', have become sensible”
Sir Loathsome looked around at the other members of the local crew and the look he gave them was that his old pal Alex had most certainly lost his mind. 
  "Ok ‘Alexander’" Sir Loathsome said. "Go. Go and be a member of polite society. Take Miss Jane or whatevers hand in marriage. Raise some fine young lads and lasses. Enjoy your time at your father's firm. Purchase a grand estate. Manicure the grounds. Have tea at four o'clock in the afternoon every day. Read The Times every morning, pressed flat with an iron by whatever butler you hire. Throw gala social events where everybody of your kind mingles over punch and harpsichord music. And then, the day you wake up bored out of your mind, come on down to the brewpub and over some greasy fish and chips and a frothy mug of grog, we in the old gang will celebrate your return to reality!”.

Cure All

       I have discovered, to my delight and dismay, that there is a substance in the world with amazing magical properties. This substance isn't found everywhere, only in certain places. With it you wield the greatest power. Without it you are as nothing. 
      Those given this power are ordinary mortals, just like you, who seem to be just like you, but once they have this substance in their possession they are changed by it. Nothing is ever enough for them once they have it, and nary will they give up a dram of it to those in need. Beyond all comprehension they act as despots, rulers without mercy, employing their new-found power to satisfy every desire it can possibly fulfill. 
      Those without this magical substance are ones bereft, shivering in dark places, relegated to dank environs, and looked upon with pity. To these afflicted the rest of the world is mainly unaware (and thus unable) to come to their aid. The local governors, those who are aware and in position to render aid, gaze with unflinching eye upon the distress of the afflicted for the governors only employ this magical substance to achieve their objectives. They do not themselves possess it, but give it to others, bestow it upon them, as reward. These boons, granted, are highly prized. The governor's blessing "Do what thou will with it!" is then given the fortunate whilst those lacking the substance are treated by the same governing forces with a disdain bordering on villainous and unchristrian. How can such a thing be?

The churlish look you get when you ask a favor

Rod Long- Unsplash.com

 "Is it not unfair that ones should have so much, and others so little?!” beseech the greatly displeased. “After all, are not people equal in the eyes of God?".
      "No!" say they, the possessors of the alchemical elixir. "'Tis fair that we have a greater quantity, for we are special! Different. Above and beyond the rest. No one can save you". 
      "But you can!” plead the lesser-than. "You, who have this astonishing potion, can show us mercy!"
"Nay!" say they, and the door slams shut. 
  Decades of this unfair and unethical treatment can pass, the powerful growing ever the more, the wretched slowly accruing, but never will they be able to match the power of those above them, who lord over them still (and undoubtedly will) until the bitter end. 
  No misery is greater than this, no offense more grievous, no chance at respite more hopeless, no cruelty more pronounced. 
  Those that have the fairy dust would argue that it is not so, things are not as bad as they seem. They downplay the impoverished one's suffering and ofttimes jest about it, telling them that they once knew of the astounding bleakness they're experiencing, the lack, the lesser chance at life, and survived it. 
    "But (if you ever did) that was so long ago!" howl the afflicted. "You, who claim to understand suffering, bring to us ever the more of it! We are not blind to your smirking at our travail, passing us by with thinly-veiled aversion, treating us with condescending air, and overall despising our very presence as if we were lepers. You once had no Golden Ticket! You once knew of pain! How can you be so heartless, so desensitized, so monstrous? So... ....inhumane?!”
    "We hear you not. Go away!”
    And again, the door slams. 
    Muttering, the disenfranchised shuffle away, only to dream, to scheme, to plot, to hope, to wonder when, or if ever, enough of the wondrous, strategic, and fabulously potent resource that the exalted have will come their way. Glorious, it’ll be, that day when they’ll see bright daylight again! On that day where they'll walk proud amongst their fellow men, heads held high and with confident hearty laughter, be enjoying life again!
  But alas, alas! 'Tis not yet!

Another night shift looms. Another night to only fantasize-

       -about having SENIORITY.

Ratt Rod

    I spent some time living in a medium-sized but rather vanilla Colorado town and there was this guy.
I used to see him here and there, because my job had me driving around town a lot. I'd be waiting three deep to make a left turn at the speed camera controlled intersection, or driving along any of a number of busy arterial drags that fed traffic to the freeway, and spot him. And he was always easy to spot. 
His vehicle of choice was a slightly lowered, apocalyptic-looking, yellowish/rust-orange colored mini truck that had sort of warrior-themed, black stenciled skull on the driver's door. A hint of a powerful engine peeked out above the hood and if you were within a few cars of the thing you could hear it rumbling. 
The driver looked like D-Day from Animal House, with his slight snarl, wrap around shades, and dark, thinning, slightly greasy hair. 
Nearly every other car in town was stock, right off the factory floor, accessorized but not modified, climate controlled, emission compliant, whisper quiet, and boring. 
D-day's snarl probably was one of contempt for people driving company vehicles and ordinary commuter cars because the souped-up mini truck he was driving had to be serious fun. Cops didn't see it that way, oh no, they wanted to be the only ones in town driving the performance cars, tearing off down the road in pursuit, which they had a license to do, but there were times I wondered what their hustling was all about because I couldn't see any reason they were driving so fast. Maybe it was the end of the shift and they were racing back to the yard to park it or they were bored and it was time for a little driving excitement. 
Something I and the masses were never allowed to have. 

License and Registration not required!

Koen Van Ginkel- Unsplash.com

There was a passenger in town I picked up once that told me that he had twelve points taken off his license because some cop said he had pulled away after the light turned green ‘as if he was racing’. Twelve points! He showed me the ticket- 'Intention To Race' was written on it. Said he was going to fight it in court. Twelve points on your driving record in Colorado was four points more than getting caught for drunk driving! I thought this way over the top unjustified.

Motorcycle cops with their radar guns lurked at the trouble spots in town, places I knew about, this simply due to plying every damn street in town over and over, so I knew to look out for them, and then these speed trap/speed camera vans started showing up and driving became about as fun as if the damn driving instructor at the DMV was sitting beside me at all times. 
Not that I (or most of the people in town) was a speeder, drove erratically, was prone to fits of road rage, or was in any other way a menace to other drivers or pedestrians but the overwhelming and constant police presence the local governing body was financing (the police department was one of the biggest and newest government buildings in town) highly suggested that left to ourselves, the streets would become drag strips filled with drunks, road ragers, and other such out of control menaces to society.
So it was a relief to see D-day bucking the trend. Every time I saw the guy he reminded me that driving- and especially commuting- used to be fun. Cars were never meant to be the cookie-cutter, closed cockpit, sensory deprivation chambers that they unarguably have become. Cars are machines built to serve humanity and machines that serve mankind have personalities. 
Now I know a lot of people don't believe this, but cars, like everything else, have consciousness. Not the same that people have, but they do. Ask anybody that drives for a living. Like your car, it'll like you back. Appreciate your car and it'll like you back more. And nobody appreciates cars more than car enthusiasts. 

I’ll be taking the yellow one home

Marc Kleen- Unsplash.com

So there's a bonding there. You're one with the vehicle. It knows you and you it. Let that fresh air come in! Feel the rumble of the engine! Know how she handles, how she responds to the throttle, how the tires bite on the curves. Pilots know planes, captains know ships, engineers know trains, and real drivers know cars. 
Car designers have gotten away from that. Cars used to be hand made, not made like toasters. Oh, I'm straying here..... 

Dig- there is a show on Netlix right now called Gotham Garage. If you wanna see how it's done, how driving can be made fun again, that's the show to watch. Whatever this team builds for their customers is guaranteed to be the only one of its kind in town. Fun to drive? No question. Headturner? You bet.
So it is possible to reverse the unfun car trend. Getting from point A. to point B. doesn't have to be as boring as sitting in a laundromat and maybe by making driving fun again people won't be in such a hurry to get from here to there, which they are now, because the cars they're driving aren't fun to drive!
D-day understood this sort of reasoning. Speed cameras, motorcycle cops, and speed camera vans be damned, he was gonna drive his ratt rod anyway and enjoy his time behind the wheel.

Top 100

   Got on the ol' internet last night and explored the musical offerings. "Why not see what's out there?" I asked myself. "It's been awhile".
    Settled on a 'Billboard Top 100' songs (of 2018) You Tube playlist. Now whether this was the actual list compiled by Billboard magazine or something that a guy put together in his garage and posted on You Tube was questionable. You can't be sure anymore and it looked legit so what the heck I dived in. 
    Well......
    Somebody thought these were the top 100 songs but it certainly wasn't me. I was astounded at how utterly bland and repetitious just ten of them were and dreaded listening further. I tried to imagine myself duty-bound, like a guy sentenced to community service or something, in order to muster up the will to push through to the end but I could not find it in me to try and go all the way. 
   The first ten I viewed featured the likes of Drake, Ariana Grande, and some others who I can't remember the names of. Please don't think I'm some old fogey dissin' modern day music and pining for the old days because, brother, music is either listenable or it's not. Visual video fluff might dazzle you, and slick instrumental and voice (re)production might be a sign o' the times, but as far as bein' ear candy, this stuff is not. 
      I wanna plead with the young people that they're being duped and to turn away from this, because most of it is junk. But what the hell do I know? You oughta see the views these videos are compiling!

Now I know the 'artists' out there don't want to hear that their product is shoddy. They probably could care less because they're makin' bank on their ‘music’ and just like at any business, whether they put out good product or not, as long as people keep buying the stuff they'll make more of it. The music industry used to have quality control but man, those days are gone and now the masses are being fed some serious cattle fodder. 
There's good stuff out there somewhere but it's daunting to have to plow through tons of material to find it. A lot of the videos I watched and listened to had handsome lads and lithe ladies, the men were smooth crooners and the women songbirds, Ariana Grande seemed to be a nice person and Drake as well (he was handing out wads of cash in “God’s Plan”, bless him for that), but if I was blind and just listening to this I would be suffering. Young uns', it wasn't always this way!
There used to be mainly good stuff out there as a rule, and the bad stuff was kept on a shelf a fair distance away away from whatever device might be able to broadcast it. Safeguards were in place. They called that shelved kind of music 'B sides' and late night DJ's would only play it at two or three a.m.. 
Why did they do that? Advertisers! Audience! People listened to the radio because that's where the music came from and if it wasn't good, they'd turn to the next station or turn the damn thing off. But the system doesn't work like that anymore. You are now the filter, saddled with that onerous role, one in which you are asked to give the artist a thumbs up or down, a ranking, a 'like', or to subscribe to their feed, and man, that is work! Who wants to work at listening to music?

To be fair, and to silence any critics who say I haven't tried, I have tried. I've gotten on Spotify, searched You Tube, perused Pandora, and scanned the playlist of the best local (and very eclectic) radio station in town. In addition to that, I have tried in many other ways to seek out good music with the intention of restoring and refreshing my playlist but how much torment can a man stand? Song after bad song I suffered through the last time I went all the way through a top 100 list, thinking that at least ten of them might be good (I set my sights very low) and then at the end of that excruciating ordeal, none of the songs were deemed to be sufficiently satisfying enough to be worthy of being listened to again! (As far as building a playlist with marginal material, I have tried that before and have rued making that decision). Going all the way through that last ‘Top 100’ playlist and coming up dry was traumatizing and made me extraordinarily hesitant to attempt to (ha!) do what used to bring a great deal of joy to me, which was to spend hours filtering through albums and tapes and CD's.

Like a gold mine, coming across this (except for Feliciano!)

Joseph Pearson- Unsplash.com

    Maybe I just don't get it. Maybe I don't like the beat, rhythm structure, lyrics, or the voices that make up the peculiar flavor of modern music. But if that's so, how can I listen to Classical, Jazz, Funk, Rock, Pop, and Reggae stations on the radio and damn if not every song but every tenth or fifteenth song is good? 
  DJ's have saved me from having to filter, that's why! They have gone through the filtering process to the best of their ability and are presenting me with a playlist that they think is good, or good enough. It's a dirty job but somebody has to do it, they have to have a passion for music driving them because, music lover that I am, I have found that I’m just not up for that degree of sifting.  
You know, in some ways the internet has been a godsend. When it comes to doing research, finding out information on how to fix your make and model of car’s door handle, or checking out new recipes for a Keto diet, internet sites are invaluable but in other ways the portal has backslid on us and saddled us with unwanted and time consuming tasks. Seems that many times when I initiate a project on the internet and am using a new app or program that is proclaimed to be 'intuitive' and 'user friendly' it ends up being more painstaking an endeavor than building a highly detailed scale model of the H.M.S. Agincourt, complete with sails and rigging. 
   Music sifting is just one glaring example of this sort of backsliding. I'm frustrated as hell about it. But what comes to mind in dealing with this issue is an old Chinese saying:
  "Give a difficult job to a lazy man and he'll find an easier way to do it"

I’m that lazy man and I will find a way, because I can listen to my top 100 songs for only so long!

10/10 Again

I'm only going to write about this once.
I think.
10/10 was the birth day and month of one of my childhood friends, and yes, I was following astrology even then. Anybody remember Sydney Omarr? He was good. 
My Libra childhood friend and I hung out a lot with my other dysfunctional childhood friend, who I wrote about earlier. We never called each other by our real names, only by nicknames. My Libra friend's nickname was a name I clearly remember because it was a funny one. I can't repeat it here because I use it as a password. 
So let's call him Trippalicious, or 'Tripp', for short. 

October

Adrian Curiel- Unsplash.com

Tripp was a natural-born Fonzie, he was the coolest guy in the 'hood. I always enjoyed the times we hung out together, but those times weren't regular. It wasn't like you could call him and he would answer, or you could show up at his house. Ever. No, Tripp just appeared. 
He would show up and whenever he did the day had an almost magical quality around it, indeed it became a special day, because Tripp was part of it. He was liable to disappear as quickly as you could snap your fingers sometimes so you never knew how long he was going to stick around and be part of the scene. I never could figure the guy's M.O. out, where he was called to and what he did whenever he wasn't around. It was like the guy had a need to vanish. 
He might be gone for days on end then reappear as if nothing had happened. Girls really dug him and most guys thought him super cool, though he had his share of detractors. Jealous, they probably were. Tripp had an aura of mysterious just oozing from him, which is a quality impossible to imitate. Charisma, they call it. 

  One sunny Junior High or early High School afternoon, I can't remember specifically, me, Tripp, and my other dysfunctional friend were skipping school and hiding in a grove of pine trees. We were just hanging out, but on the verge of doing something that might get us in trouble, for there was always the hint of that when we got together. I remembered exactly where I knew Tripp from before right then, for I had been feeling a perplexing and persistent familiarity with him ever since we had first met. Due to some hand gestures he was making, or the lighting, or the forest setting we were in, I suddenly recalled that we had been dandies in Europe in the late 1920's. We had been rather splendid and monied fellows, but not gay- no way. A definite dose of double trouble for the ladies. Germany/Belgium/Copenhagen was the general area. 
Now I don't go around in life and have this sort of recognition happening with every person I meet so I know the difference, I know how it feels. With Tripp it was definite. I knew that I had known him before, and this event happened when I was a teen. Isn't that sort of miraculous?
  I think so. But even more miraculous than that was knowing, in a otherworldly juxtaposition of space/time, that we had been placed together again in a different time, with highly different parents, and not at all in anything approaching a highly urbane cosmopolitan setting. Tripp didn't get this, or maybe he did. Either way he wouldn't have talked about it. He wasn't the kind to spill the beans. Keep it forever mysterious was his way and roll with it. 

Anyway, fast forwarding here, Tripp was kind of on the same trajectory as my dysfunctional friend. He wasn't a born rule breaker like him, a crazy at times, almost nonsensical risk-taker-on-a-dare kind of guy. Tripp's issue was alcohol. He liked it but his system couldn't handle it very well, because unlike white guy me, Tripp was a Native American and did not possess an alcohol-seasoned set of genes. He was from a local band that had lived in the area before but was now mostly situated on a reservation about forty miles away. Few of his kind chose to live in town, but his family had taken a chance and relocated. 
Tripp's dad was a great guy who had ten kids, I heard a lot about him from other people I trusted. Tripp's mother and siblings I never met 'cept one, who was Tripp's older brother, and he was alright by me but I know that the entire family got discriminated against. There were places in town where they were not welcome. Not that anybody would outright say it, but you can tell when you get the cold shoulder and I think Tripp and his kind knew they would never fit in in certain social circles, never be let in. 

That's got to cause a lot of pain but Tripp never showed it. He and I were just teens placed in a setting where there was a lot of old stuff playing out amongst the settlers and natives but we didn't see color or race to be an issue.

I never went to Tripp's house, and he wasn’t at all welcome at mine, but I knew where he lived. I tried to call him on the phone a few times to hook up but whoever answered it always said "He's not here".

Tripp became over time (and to the dismay of his family, I'm sure) the likeable town drunk. He would literally drink until he passed out, but before he did, he was hours of fun to be around. He (a man now) could drink anybody under the table- don't even think about challenging him. His course in life seemed to be set. 
It was about at this time that we started gaining distance from each other. Life was calling me to explore different areas of town, and then the country. There came a moment when we saw each other for the last time and you’d think that would have been memorable or something but it wasn't. Just another hanging out session with Tripp, it probably was. 

Tenth

Ales Krivec- Unsplash.com

Then I really moved away and lost all contact until the early spring of 2009 when, during a raging blizzard that had suddenly sprung upon the town I had just moved to, I got word that Tripp had died. He had been found dead in his car after a night of drinking. All of 49 years old. Foul play was suspected, there might have been others around who could have saved him (it can get cold at night in my hometown at that time of year), but nothing ever came of any, and most likely halfhearted, investigation.

  I kind of thought something like that would happen to him but was surprised when it actually did because Tripp had cheated death more than a few times before.
  The news affected me a great deal. There are people in your life that have meant a lot to you, even though you never, ever said anything denoting caring to each other when you were together because that would have been a totally uncool thing to do. 
  So, here's to you, 'Tripp' old friend. Every year I remember your birthday. Not that it would have mattered to you- (or maybe it did?)- but it does to me. 

At A Distance

     At the airport I see families, young, a lot of them. Mom, Dad, and the cute little ones. I see adventurers toting backpacks and business people doing who knows what for unknown companies like they're secret agents and all manner of couples out on a lark, some packing heavy, others light. I see newlyweds with these wierd shirts on, one reading 'Hubby' and the other 'Wifey', a goofy trend that started somewhere (I'm absolutely sure the guys got talked into wearing those), and I've also seen a few couples where both of them are wearing the same shirt. Yesterday a couple showed up, both of them wearing 'Bride' shirts.
     They're in and out of my area lickety split and I might see 'em again later in the day, next week, or in a month, but probably not. They're off doing their thing and I'm doing mine and due to the manner of my employment, I don't have time to get to know them nor they me so we're ships passing in the night, unless they divulge a snippet of information or I overhear a conversation.
Just the way it is. By default, I am at present somewhat removed but it's not so bad. I have other things to think about. Big picture stuff. 

Were I to be in the Jones family, the one where there are three little ones, my mind would be filled with the wild and unpredictable goings on that take place in that little tribe, but it ain't. Were I to be one of the backpacking adventurers, who tend to look a little bit hot and uncomfortable, I would be highly concerned with that world, but I ain't. Ditto the business people's world, and the micro worlds of all the couples I encounter. 

My Neighbor Lena

Jude Beck- Unsplash.com

I haven't left the world yet, I'm still in it, but I float high above it, where other contemplatives dwell. We live there like neighbors in Kansas do, miles away but within sight distance of each other. From my perch I can scan the near and far horizons while taking in data, which I use to formulate the overall direction that society is heading in. I'm a self-appointed social scientist and I like doing this. Everywhere I scan, I gather up data.
And there is a lot of data to gather!  Put me in a big city and I'm nearly overwhelmed and totally mesmerized by what is going on to the extent that I might appear to be not 'present'. Those around me might say I'm aloof or 'stuck up' but I'm not, I'm just taking it all in, like a big meal. 
Information is data and these days I can expose myself to loads of it but it has to follow a path that is interesting to me. Family affairs and smaller worlds don't hold a lot of interest, I'm afraid. Been there, done that, in some other time and place and now I know enough about it to mumble "Uh huh" in response to anything occurring there.
There is a danger, though, in becoming too distant and that is you tend to lose the ability to relate to people at ground level. I try to reign myself in from wherever I'm floating and occasionally come back to the world so that I keep in touch.

    It is abhorrent to me that I would become small and uninformed, especially in these times. Give me the big picture, drown me in data! I'll make sense of it. Maybe not right away, but over time I will (but not in a lot of time). 

    Why am I so driven to do this? I think a lot of it has to do with experience. Experiences I have had. Gonna get woo-woo on ya here, but it makes perfect sense. 
  I'm driven to do this because I've been the dad with the new family, the backpacker traveler, the businessman (probably called 'merchant' back then) plus a host of other things and all I ever saw was the little picture! Things happened fast in the worlds I was in. I was awash in events, never had time to pause and reflect, and then "Bam!" it was over and I spent a lot of time in the afterlife review area putting the dots together and seeing just what the hell had happened and why. 
"Oh" I would marvel. "Maybe I shoulda thought about that more" and so this time around, I do think about it more, maybe too much at times, but that's where I'm at with this. It's hard to feel like you're missing out when you had a lot of life experiences, which are very intense the first time you have them and leave memories that are etched forever upon the soul.
So, balance. Little of this, little of that. Don't drift too far out and don't get sucked into a world where all you see is what is swirling around you. 
Life, huh? Your choice. You can go either way.

The Assault On Truth

     This is nothing new. For ages lies have been employed to control, dupe, befuddle, confound, annoy, perplex, distract, disarm, and disposess the masses of their reasoning. There was even a movie made called 'Liar Liar' in which the main character tried to tell the truth in all instances for only one day and found it very, very difficult to do. 
     But the age of telepathy is coming and when that time dawns no more lies can be told because it'll all be in your aura, in your field, what you're thinking, what you're about. You in all your nakedness will be on display, all the time, for people to peruse, everywhere. 
     But until that day dawns, and personal communication devices are no longer necessary, lies can and will be told. 
Truth is devastaing to lies, it cuts through them like a sword and renders them instantly inert. 
     In the face of truth, light is shed on the matter, a glaring, bright, overwhelming light like the kind the dentist shines on your molars or those impossibly bright blue halogen headlights that some of the drivers install in their cars around here. 
     Lies dwell in the shadowlands, while truth stands alone in the empty field, ne'er needing to hide. 
     Lately, truth has become the enemy, which to is say that those presenting alternative facts greatly fear the truth, for the truth would expose them. Thus, in order to defuse the investigation, confound the learned, and polarize the masses, differing stories are told about the same subject and the reader, listener, or observer is left in the position of choosing sides, for we have to choose a side to be on, don't we? But, without clarity, choosing a side to be on is difficult at best, for the credible sources that people rely on to give them information are under attack. The water gets murkier with each passing day and we are asked to accept this nonsense as the best we can do and proceed on a course that leads to who knows where, or why, for all this is being made up as we are being led down some road that we wouldn't be walking on in a million years. 
     (Were we to live that long but in these times it seems like a million years we've been walking this road). 

Not goin’ back to the 1940’s. Not interested.

Pablo- Unsplash.com

     This is why, my friends, why you need to tune into the vibe because the vibe is what your heart is telling you, it's that still small voice. What is it saying? How does it feel? If it feels oily, slimy, heavy, dark, low energy, wrong, sick, ill, sad, etc. your heart is trying to tell you something. Despite the outward appearances, the dog and pony show, the stature, the position, the title, or the passionate argument, how does the damn thing feel?
    You're never going to get facts from people that try to hide them! Never gonna get the straight dope. Until the bitter end they will hold onto falsehoods because, friends, that's all they got. They don't understand a better way and so they're trying to bring the old way into the new, where it can't live. Those days of deception are over.
     We're not going back to the dark ages, we're going to the light. It’s what most people want. Do I hear an amen?!
    Sorry I have to employ tough love here but the times call for it. It's time to tune in, brothah's and sistahs, to how it feels.
   Ain't nobody wrong, ain't nobody right. It's all about choices in a free will universe. Tuning into the vibe could help you make your choices with a greater degree of certainty because what else you got left that you can rely on? Pundits are under attack on all sides and there is no clear line of sight!

The necessity of the passage of time

     Without time, everything would happen at once in a vast explosion of events and images. Awfully hard to sort out. So time acts as The Universe's way of slowing things down so that they can be experienced, comprehended, enjoyed, weathered, endured, and appreciated. Some would say time is the root cause of suffering for all things come to pass, like the relentlessly turning hands of the clock marching towards The End. Time measures and marks the days, months, and years of each life, it displays evidence of age and aging. Time might appear to be cruel in that regard.

More fun than any book

Keith Johnston- Unsplash.com

     But think of time like a football game. At kickoff time it's quite exciting, is it not? The players, one of whom is you, comes out upon the field to great fanfare, ready to do battle with the opponent, which could be called 'life'. Promise is in the air, anything can happen and usually does, the possibility for amazing feats is there, along with the equal possibility that tragedy of some sort may occur.
    In the first quarter of life mistakes are made, sloppy play happens all over the field, everybody is jumpy and nervous, but all that is forgiven because it's still early in the game. 
     In the second quarter life begins to get a little more serious. Scoring has most likely occurred on both sides, and the foe's strengths, to greater or lesser degree, have revealed themselves. The foe's weaknesses have also shown themselves, and trickery on both sides has been employed and experienced.  
      Halftime offer a respite. Time is alotted to reflect on what has occurred, take what has been revealed about the opponent into account, and furiously strategize for the remainder of the game.
     The third quarter could be make or break time. By now the team you're on could be marching towards an easy victory, be involved in a pitched battle, or be well on its way to being humiliated in a crushing defeat. 
    The fourth and final quarter could have you resting on the bench victorious while other players take the field (early retirement), or you could be in the thick of it still, riding in an injury cart off the field, or be glumly going through the motions and fervently hoping that the clock would hurry up and tick off those final few minutes.
      All games must come to an end but it was fun while it lasted, wasn't it? You could've watched from the stands but win or lose, it's much more enjoyable to be on the field. (And for the losers, there's always next time) 
     This is what time does, it enables you to test yourself through actual experience and not be fated to learn passively through merely reading about this thing called life. Experience is by far the best teacher.

Voices

        In an article I came across recently, a few famous female personalites revealed that upon hitting it big they underwent great degrees of psychological torment. I read further with keen interest, for I am always curious about what it's like to be in another's shoes, especially celebrities. 
     Both women had really scored. One was a supermodel, the other an actress that had starred in back-to-back hit movies. 
     The actress said that she went through a period where she experienced panic attacks, didn't want to make public appearances, and shuddered constantly at any hint of criticism that might be coming her way. It was the same but slightly different with the supermodel. Even though they were being photographed, interviewed, receiving heaps of praise for what they had done and being showered with invites for more work, what they heard most, what pierced the thundering chorus of good, were the voices and opinions that said that they were bad. Isn't that remarkable. 

Another photographer!

Ali Marel- Unsplash.com

     The same thing happened to me, when I was their age, in my early twenties. But it was reversed. All around me people and society was telling me that I was bad. With low opinions of themselves, for the most part, confusion about their place in the world, and hardly thinking that anyone- evidenced by the lackluster town in which I grew up- was good enough to amount to anything special, the message was that we might achieve a medicum of success but nothing on the level of the supermodel or actress. We would never be stars, super wealthy, or be deemed intelligent enough to present a respected opinion on anything. We would never be good.
     Those sort of lives happened to other people in faraway places, or to people that had moved away to 'where the action was'. But, as to the latter, even if I moved few of those kind of people had ever been born where I was born so chances were slim to none that I would get there. 
     Despite all that naysaying, all I heard was the good. The books I was reading, the intuitives I was seeing, my inner guidance, dreams I had, and the mornings where I would wake up on some sort of natural high told me different. I only heard the good, listened for the good. 
       I left the place where I was born and rambled here and there, that voice for good always resounding in me, reminding me, and as I rambled I could see that people in my home town weren't the only ones affected by unworthiness. It was everywhere! People overall had a pretty low opinion about their chances for good. Yes, they were greedy, and ambitious, and all that, but none of them seemed to hold in themselves that they were innately good and powerful. Not knowing that, their way was to charge ahead and bluster, bamboozle, or overpower the world which just happened to be everybody's else's strategy too, which said tons about how they viewed themselves. Not as naturally worthy, because if they were, they would be a lot more relaxed. They would, if they understood their innate worthiness, be in the flow and trust things more. Trust in the playouts and unfolding of things. Their patience would be great, their kindness evident, their manner appreciative. This is not to say that you have to be an angel with this, you can be wild and free, but in a positive way. Live life fully, by all means.
       In pursuing my understanding of this further, I saw that nearly everybody was the same in this regard. They are born good but just don't know it. Ignorance was rampant in the town and in the times where I grew up and so I set out to destroy ignorance in myself, because there was no shining light anywhere around. I could sense that intelligence was there though and somehow, through pulling on the tiniest thread, I made my way to where I am now, where I can state with firm conviction that it really is 'All Good'! 
     The famous women said that thoughts of going into hiding, or, in absolute desperation, finding some other way of escaping the negative voices occurred to them. They just wanted those voices turned off. Imagine that. 
     Voices for good will never have you thinking that. Turn them on! Introduce yourself to good common sense information that resonates with your soul. Seek it out. It exists. Find a thread and follow it. Let your journey back to wholeness commence this very day. Don’t worry about exactly how to get there because….

…following good always leads back home. Good is where you came from.  

Nobody

I am a nobody, yet I appear to be a somebody. I come and go. I appear in form and do all sorts of things when I'm around, then I disappear and the ones left think I am gone but I am not. 
    This 'nobody' is me, you, everybody that ever was and ever will be. 
    Appearing and disappearing is what we do. It's what we're good at.
    We're great actors. We really get into our roles. 
There are many, many roles to play. Billions of them.

Somebody

Krists Luhaers- Unsplash.com

If you've been acting for awhile and suspect things might be different than what you've been told, you're one of the few. Awareness comes to those who seek it out, but it comes slowly most times. 
Partially aware now, perhaps, if you’re getting this, you're beginning to remember that this is all a game, one that you are playing with yourself. 
    But you think yourself means just you. 
    Or a slightly bigger grouping of 'you’, which includes your 'soul’.
    It's a conundrum, I know.
    Lately I've come to think that this bigger 'grouping' is all the 'yous' that are, ever were, and ever will appear in form.
    How can that be? 
    I don't know. But I can picture it, and it seems about right. 
    Same thing with souls. There’s just one. 
    What?!
    Yeah, just one supersoul called God, that all of us smaller souls fit within. Thankfully, I think yet again, in my present understanding of this, that even though we're all together in this gestalt called God, we're still apart somehow. We're 'apart' in that we recognize our differences- our uniqueness, brought about by the experiences we’ve had- while at the same time acknowledging our indisputable similarity to each other, all of this ceaselessly existing in a 'place' where time and space don't exist as we know it. 
    So, as a 'somebody' who is actually a nobody, I go about my day, pretending. It's asked of me! To walk through this world seemingly unaware.   
    But since we're in truth all connected, I and you have feelings about things. That's just being cognizant of the vibrations that exist all around us. Tuning into those in order to read the information they're putting out is a choice. 

Nobody

Adrien Olichon- Unsplash.com

I can't wait to see this get acknowledged by the mainstream. What a game changer. You, me, seemingly different now, seen as the same when recognition occurs. 
    Amazing the game has gone on as long as it has. 
    But, actors being actors, they love to play many different roles. It's challenging. 
    But then again, I’m acting too. Playing the role of a slightly awake one. My part in the drama. 

    Looking out the window of my study, I see that another day has dawned. The curtain has risen! Time to get dressed, get out there, and put on another good show.

New Look

    A totally relaxing day. Hurricane Walaka provided the day's entertainment, huge swells from the Cat 4 storm were throwing up the biggest waves in a year on the beaches of the South shore.
    Watching nature do her thing, all other entertainment options paled.

Speaking of entertainment, people where I work are watching movies on their cell phones a lot, and it keeps 'em occupied 'cuz the shifts are slow and long-seeming. We are sooo easily bored.
     I guess this is partly because we're so separate from each other now.

Was watching old movies on TCM (Turner Classic Movies) the last few weeks and what's striking about them is that we used to be a lot more social. We didn't have devices to bury our faces in so we had to be social, I guess. Just the way it was. All this your crib- my crib living, he in his man cave, she in her she shed, is okay but for how long?

I’m kinda new here

Colin Maynard- Unsplash.com

  Ain't you curious about your neighbors and what they're doing, how they think, vote, eat, etc.?
     "Nope!" go most people. "Got everything I need right here" and most people do, nowadays.
     If you want, you can easily disappear, only to surface now and again at the watering holes of our culture- the grocery store/warehouse store, gas station, or airport. Other than that you're just a car on the highway, a face in the crowd, a driveway that leads to a house that you pass by.
     Has any culture lived like this before? We have to be the most physically non-social culture in the last 2,000 years! Our evolution has definitely been away from socializing directly. So what if you got 'likes' on social media? It's like being virtually liked. After all, you're showing your best face to the camera. That ain't real life.
But, whattya going to do about it? What can you do about it? 
  You can pitch an event, but is it a better option for your hoped-for participants than binge watching Netfix in the comfort and safety of their home? That's the event planner's competition these days. I guess option B is what people really want 'cuz getting them out of the house, even on a sunny weekend, takes willpower galore for them, the pull of that instant gratification home entertainment being so strong.
So it's with this in mind that Nowchangeable.com has narrowed it's format choices. The goal here now is to provide a daily entertainment stop for those interested in what I have to say. It won't cost you much time, admission is free, and I'll try to give you something to think about, relate to, or laugh about each day....   ...that I post, which I try to do every day but....    ...things happen. Life happens.
I know you're busy, there's a lot being offered up, and hell, I'm just me. I'm trying, man. Content, like fine wine, takes time (but not too much time!).
  We all have things to do.
I can't compete with Hollywood movies, or with some slickly (is that a word?) produced music video that's rackin' up views like credits on a slot machine's whats hit the jackpot. But- I can git you to sit around a good old pot-bellied stove whats puttin' out some fine heat and spin you a tale.
I'm a rockin' chair on the cabin porch guy, a lazy Advaita-obsessed Joe in a hammock, a soapbox standin' citizen havin' his say, and more. I try to make my posts as intelligent as I can, yet simple, so they can be easily understood. 
So look me up, you know the address. Tell your friends. I aim to reach a wide audience 'cuz I've done this before, and I ain't talkin' about in this century. The territory is familiar to me- public speaking- and I didn't do it as good as I could back then- I tried- but this time around I aim to do better. Won't steer you wrong if I can help it. I partner up with my unseen-but-there friends, compadres, what'er you want to call them, and we do this together. It isn't 'work' for me- ever- though I ‘work’ at these posts for hours some days. 
Enough for one day. Chew on that and maybe I'll see you tomorrow.

Worst Job Ever

I read on the news somewhere recently that an employee was suing Facebook because she was experiencing PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) from monitoring content on the site. Oh yes, they have monitors in place. Got to, these days. 
The monitor's job (‘content moderator’ to be exact) is to scroll through content and make the call on what is socially unacceptable, morally abhorrent, or downright f___ed up crazy and delete it, block it, deny it the ability to be presented on their platform. 
  Now I can just imagine what is out there but there are as many web pages right now as grains of sand in the Sahara so who's got the time or the manpower to do this? Behemoth's like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc. You Tube. 
Back in the old days they had censors but their job was easy compared to the daunting task modern day content moderators have been given to do. 
From a job perspective, it's physically easy to filter out the obviously deranged, that's just a 'Delete" and on you scroll. But I'm sure it has to have, for some, a devastating psychological effect, seeing the unmentionable and having to filter it out for us (Thank God!), which is on the level of what cops and paramedics and soldiers do for us and that’s why we love ‘em so. I’m not going to diminish that sort of sacrifice one bit ‘cuz that is some serious ugliness that those folks have to deal with.

Fashion Week in Milan

rawpixel- Unsplash.com

But that’s one level, one that is rarely seen by the average user. What is more commonly the case, and probably numbs the skulls of the content moderators a lot, is to have to determine exactly what passes for ‘good’ and ‘bad’ because that is a blurry line, far as I can ascertain. I mean, if you want to post hundreds of pictures of your grandkids doing who knows what, is that considered offensive?
And if you detail your everyday activities as if you were Channel One and the world was breathlessly watching, is that considered overly self aggrandizing?

How about your continuous taking up of social causes and whipping up support for same via galvanizing videos and strident music?
    Or, when you carefully craft a visual so as to capcha! the audience's attention enough so that they end up wasting a full three seconds of their day before they skip it and move on? I know that doesn't sound like much, but some of these social media sites have millions of users!
  Think of the wretched moderators sitting in front of their screens, just starting their shifts, and the latest lengthy narrative comes on about you, your life, and what's taking place within it. They're on the job and can't look away! Even worse is, they might find something questionable in there and be forced to peruse your timeline further! You don't think they take that home with them? They do!
  Just a hazard of the job, something management can easily downplay, compared to the other stuff the moderators might have to look at. But how about pet videos? Oscar and Grumpy and Mitsy? Moderators might bond with them, and follow their timelines, for I'm sure such 'characters' have timelines of their own.
    How about ‘Call To Action’s? I counted six before I had three sips of coffee this morning, and some of them were pretty disturbing and/or enraging! 
  Travel. Do they have to put that Kryptonite in there? I'm sure the moderators viewing that wish they were on that sunny beach, or whiling carefree days away on some lengthy cruise, or part of that gang of fun loving goofs on a meticulously documented Go Pro road trip. 
By the time the shift is over, these poor folks are gonna need counseling! Does Facebook provide that? Apparently not enough for the woman in question. Haunted by what she's seen, off she goes, home, wherever that is, those many screens and scenes still playing in her mind. And that might have been after just one day! 
No way, man. No way. No matter what the pay is, I would strongly urge those of weaker constitution to stay away from this. And if you think you got the right stuff maybe you should check up on that bro because you just might not know what you're getting into. Exposure to too much social media comes at a cost to my peace of mind, I do know that, and it's probably gonna exact the same toll on you. Maybe it's better that we didn’t know everything about our peers that has transpired since yesterday or just last week and if we come across 'em again way down the line, say, at a high school or college reunion, we could just catch up by saying "Howzit?" and they would reply "Been busy" and that would be that. We could at least walk away with some satisfaction, that coming from feeling our life has (maybe) been as good as theirs. 
  Not to say anybody's comparing, or keeping score. No, no, no. Facebook is where friends meet. Where they check up on each other, and keep in touch. Right?
Originally, yes, that was purported to be its purpose for being (I saw the movie) but over time the thing has become a fishbowl where all therein are on display. Company claims to have filters in place but....
...you know how that goes. 
"Resistance is futile" though, unless you live in a cave, but even if you do some explorer from the Discovery Channel is going to find you and you're gonna have a social media account whether you know how to read or not! 
But, take solace in the fact that posts of grandkids and pets and the rest will keep on inundating these sites with content. Moderators will keep on filtering, and life will go on, and on, and.....

  ......Oh, where was I there? I'm afraid I strayed off topic a bit! People that go off on tangents have to be the most maddening thing for a moderator to track, because then they might have to check up on that. Poor things! 
(For moderators in need of new careers-there's always Craigslist! You probably won't see a stellar job in there but it's better than (and, strangely, this fits) ‘the Russian Front’!)

Lokal Knowledge

“Welcome to the neighborhood. I'm your Welcome Wagon host. Let's take a tour, shall we?
Over there is the church I'd recommend for you. St. Bonaventures. Friendly folk, good people. You could volunteer at their church picnic, which is coming up soon.
As we enter the town proper, be sure to watch for bicyclists and tourists on foot trying to decide which direction to go at this four way stop. They're liable to dart out in front of you arbitrarily.
Over here on the right is the place to go where you can get stick donuts. Five donuts on a stick! Creampuffs too! Super old school.
Don’t eat at that restaurant over there. I gave it some chances when I was new but after the third bad experience, it struck out. At this one across from it, it's a definite yes for lunch and dinner, but a no for breakfast. 
This little nook grocery is where you can source specific items. I'll give you the list later.
Ain't this the greatest post office? Super convenient, hardly ever a line. In and out.
Avoid the main road at two o'clock unless you want to be stuck in a getting-out-of-school traffic jam.
Back there is the recycling center, hit that up every month and drop off your accummulation. You can get money for your aluminum cans and plastic water bottles but I always just give that to the people that work there. 

“S’cusa- where can I find the stick donuts?”

Severin- Unsplash.com

This road here is tailgate road. Locals will come up behind you fast and expect you to speed up to ridiculous levels. Pull over if you can and let 'em by. They won't thank you but you'll be glad you did it. 
There are two main grocery stores. One is straight ahead, the other is up the hill.
Moving further out, I can give you the exact timing of every traffic light we'll encounter, and the traffic flow for every hour of the day and day of the week. 
In the main town, the shopping area, I've mapped out the interior of every store so as to negotiate them the fastest. I know where to park in their huge lots to avoid door dings, homeless wanderers, and bottleneck entering/exiting traffic spots.
In this area we'll also source the majority of our take out food. Call ahead at most places and you'll be in and out.
Stay off this innocuous-looking road at all costs. It's heavy with workin' man traffic, trucks, and the like. Stay on the main road until you get around it. 
Parking anywhere around here is easy, but parking in the shade shows a high degree of lokality. I'll show you the best spots.
The government stuff is all bunched together, hospital too. If you have to go there, you're on your own. Can't help you much. Parking is opportunistic so if you have to go there, look for a spot, any spot.
Sit down restaurants are few in this main area. I'll give you their coordinates.
Moving further out still, we take the connector road to the other side. Motorcycle cops stake out certain straightaways. You probably won't see them but traffic will slow long before.
On the west side, it's gonna be hot and sunny, relentlessly so. Could be windy too. Just the way it is. 
Over here, traffic is heavy and slow. Dealing with it rewards you eventually with your objective, the beach. Got a few restaurants to show you as we cruise along the strip.
Nightlife? No familiarity with that. I'm outta here long before.
Best beaches come with best spots to hang out. I'll show you my favs.
Gotta stop at the brewery every other time you're here. It's like the law or something.
Ok you've seen it! That's the introductory tour. You'll hone your lokal knowledge further as time passes. Accept this gift basket of lilikoi, avocados, and mangos- and how about a stalk of bananas too?- compliments of the association”.

Then

THEN, as a rookie driver:

 Customer enthusiastically climbs into the back seat area of my conveyance, a lone passenger he is. "Airport- United. How are you today?" he asks. 
    I pull away from the curb. (Oh my! He really wants to know!)
    "Well, sir, it's like this. Today I woke up and have been processing some about life. Beginnings and endings. You know, when it's time to make a life change, that's big, know what I mean?"
    "Mmm... …hmm..."
    "A lot is asked of you! You have to really dig in and question your motivations concerning making changes at the macro and micro levels."
  "Ah.... …yup....."
  "So you're not going into this blind, no, you're really looking at things. Everything. Do I keep this, but not that? Life, huh? Constantly evolving, the new taking place of the old. You're like a snake shedding its skin. I know that's a rather graphic analogy, but it fits"
    "Right...."

Going Places

Jonathan Riley- Unsplash.com

    "Psychologically, your surroundings act as stabilizers. Your job! Think of the familiarity there. I probably spend more time at work than at home. My coworkers- hate to say it- are like a second family"
  "Yeah..... ...uh....delete!"
  "Exactly! There comes a time when you have to hit that button. You've grown and they haven't. There's a huge difference between the viewpoint of a manager versus the one an employee has. Not that I'm going into management, no, I wouldn't do that. I am thinking about transitioning into a full time food truck gig. Right now I'm doing it on the side, on weekends. I've always liked to feed and entertain people, so I researched this some before leaping in. My thing looks to be doable. I was originally going to do Cajun food, but switched over to just hot dogs and sausages. Easier. Fries on the side."
  "(Indistinguishable muffled sounds) ....mmm... not this one....."
  "Correct. Not the first concept. Cajun, I figured, was too spicy for most tastes. Middle of the road stuff serves all markets. That's what McDonalds does, you know. Nothin' too hot, nothin' too mild. Middle of the road fare"
  "Uh... where’d that go.....?'
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, there it is. You were saying...."
"Polish dogs! People love 'em. I can cook those up all day. Foot long hots are a hit with kids. Makes 'em feel like they're eating big people food, though half of 'em can't finish 'em and give the rest to Mom or Dad"
"Ahhk! You're kiddin' me!  I can't..."
"Finish this? Yeah, that's what the kids end up saying! So far I've had my truck out twelve times on the weekends. Nice little sideline but I'll tell you what- it can get hot in that thing during the day! Sometimes, when business is slow, I like to think about where my life has taken me, and how in the hell I ended up ownin' a damn food truck. You ever get philosophical like that, where you work? I'm guessin' you work in an office somewhere"
"No, no, not this....!"
"Is what you end up saying! Exactly! Not another day of this. Funny how life just passes by and you tolerate things for a long time and then one day, that's it! I'm done, you say, and you mean it."
"Uh huh...done with that......"
"Yeah! You're like, "Do they really expect me to show up here another day?" Oh shoot- here's your stop coming’ up!" (vehicle pulls to the curb. Masses of people are bustling on the walkways just outside and loudspeakers are blaring messages. Passenger looks up, startled that we've arrived so soon).
  "What?" he says. "We're here? Oh, ok!”.

I exit to get his suitcase and carry-on out of the trunk. After scrambling to gather his things in the car’s interior he climbs out and gushes apologetically. “Sorry, I wasn't really listening. I was checking my phone messages. Have a good one!”

  NOW, as a veteran driver:

Customer enthusiastically climbs into the back seat area of my conveyance, a lone passenger he is. "Airport- United. How are you today?" he asks. 

"Great! Just great. Everything’s fine”.

Slotting Myself In

Let's get to the true nature of what it is to be a human, which is that each one is an utterly unique being, shaped by myriads of influences that carry an indelible stamp of beautiful, fantastic complexity.

So why not build on that? Has anybody noticed lately that they are expected to be more? More than just a 'being'? Trending lately is that if you truly want to excel at this game called life you have to be a personality.
Personalities are engaging, fun, thought-provoking, different, qualified, specialized, experienced, unique, seasoned, wild, edgy, and (at their best) provocative. If you want to separate yourself from the crowd you have to create a brand- yourself! And then once you've become a brand, you market that product by putting you on display! 

Attention grabbing

Saketh Garuda- Unsplash.com

     But not at a bargain price! Personalities demand recompense and perks far and above what non-branded humans get from their dreary, ordinary, and indistinguishable lots in life. Personalities, because they are different, special, and all the rest, attract and demand entitled status, they actively seek it out, go to where'er the market for their brand might be and try to muscle their way in amongst other personalities already crowding the turnstiles. 
    Success comes to those rarified few personalities who have the right stuff, that is, they outdo the other personalities vying for position and once THERE, upon the throne of their desire, they rule. They rule until they tire or their brand starts losing its luster for always there are any number of wannabe personalities jostling for position in the hallways below them. And never is their position upon the throne truly secure, because, as old the saying goes, “All fame is fleeting”. Even so, personalities can be and are preserved forever.
  Certainly they are marketed forever, because, well, because they can be! As long as somebody continues to show interest the market for that 'product' is there. Elvis lives! (As does James Dean, Amy Winehouse, Tupac, Bowie, and even an obscure early ‘60’s TV comedian named ‘Soupy Sales’, who was still doing his shtick on MeTV the other night).

We've been absolutely inundated with personalities lately and this phenomenon shows no sign of stopping. Who will you give your attention to this day? I've got my list. I'm sure you have yours. 

But I've got to admit, I'm a little bit jealous that these astute forerunners have been clever enough to dazzle me, leverage their brand, and sucker me (gasp!) into becoming interested or even worse, becoming a fan (!). I used to have a life, but now it gone, Gone With The Wind (Sorry- had to write it that way. That phrase is copyrighted).

Hell, people are even branding themselves on ordinary social media now. I've been enamored, captivated, and perhaps even a little bit possessed- or is it dis-possessed?- by this ever-growing procession. It's like a mesmerizing parade. Must.. …resist...  …this...
But then again, isn't this exactly what I’m doing? Yikes! Trying to brand myself (Thought Of The Day)?!
Ok, I'm late to jump on the bandwagon, as usual. But be sure to tune in tomorrow, though-  Because there’s no telling what I might write about next!

Personal Pan Pizza

What a concept. I remember when it was introduced. "A pizza just for you! Introducing Pizza Hut's PERSONAL PAN PIZZA!" (cut to) an employee sliding a piping hot, deep dish personal pan pizza in front of a waiting patron sitting at the requisite red and white checkerboard pizza restaurant table. 
     I like it when it's personalized like that. No leftovers, just the way you like it, and just enough. So what comes next?
We are close to having the technology, it’s being feverishly developed while I write this. Personalized dishes, home delivered!

“Did I say “Fries with that”?”

“I did?”

Eiliv Aceron- Unsplash.com

Picture this- instead of the old school food court concept, where you jet into the mall parking lot after work and trudge inside, place your order at the counter (or pick it up because you were wise and called ahead) and then drive home- the process is reversed. The food court calls you around 2ish and asks you what you want to eat today (because you never know one day to the next) and soon as you make up your mind it's "Order up!" and the staff gets to work, or puts you in the que. 
  You, the patron, then go about the rest of your day as if you were the Lord of the Manor, which you are, in this scenario, because when suppertime comes or the shift’s over or you've just cemented that trade deal with the Q4 the delivery ‘person’ from the restaurant comes through the kitchen door and BAM! lays the plate on your table. 
No more of the drudgery called cooking. Now I know that might offend a lot of home chefs out there, who love to craft fantastic dishes but I, honestly, have better things to do most of the time. I might want to work on a drawing, which I haven't had time for in a month of Sundays and even if I only get a small bit accomplished it makes my art project that much closer to being complete (so I can start another one!).
So- Silicon Valley! China! Japan! India! I'd like to hear progress reports on those A.I. delivery robots STAT! Can't be patronizing these food courts much longer. I have things to do!