Third day into the year and I think I ran out of shit to say; back in 1984, maybe even 1980. In 1980 I said I do, popped out a few kids and was set on the path to social and mental health ruin. Wait, popping out the kids isn’t related to social and mental health ruin, well, not social ruin. Just saying I do and I’m leaving out the context; there was a minister and flowers and a chick dressed in white, kegs of beer, a band and VW van loaded down with shit.
Pretty much all the shit I’ve said between then and now was more for melody and meter than meaning. Don’t get me wrong, melody and meter are noble causes and much less tiresome then meaning, unless it’s your third set, closing time, and some idiot in the back of the bar keeps yelling ‘Free Bird!” and pumping two fingers in the air. I’ll give that bird something to never change about …
I guess that for a while I said shit that was important to other people. I mean I changed their lives, not for the better. Wait, no, they fucked up their lives, I just said it out loud and for the record. You’re an idiot, if for instance, you blame the cop for your speeding, his fault is writing you the ticket, you were speeding all on your own, probably because of all the drugs. You ruined speeding for the rest of us. Um, my analogy is actually much milder than the instances of life fucking up I pointed out.
All that shit, however, analogous and analog, happened in the past. In Portland Oregon most all of the rest of the country is referred to as “back East”. I use “the Past” in that same spirit; everything before this very moment. In the immediate present I’m typing. If you follow a certain time-line, I’m always typing and, possibly, always will be. Even when I type, and poorly I might add, it’s more melody and meter than content.
Y’ll can disagree if you want but I’m not disparaging myself. I’m kind of fond of me, just a little bored. I remember days, weeks, months when I dearly wished for a little boredom. I also have a vauge memory of being a child and engaged in some joyous activity only a kid would do and thinking “I will always remember this, this is what it’s like to be a kid”. I don’t remember what I was doing, but I remember how profound the idea that I should remember the essence of being a kid.
As it stands the best thing I can think of about being a kid is the constant state of wonder and curiousity, at least that how it was for me. Today, below freezing, if I saw a naked clown go through a car wash on a unicycle I might yawn or honk my horn, impatient for my turn. I stopped by a speedway, a chain of gas stations in this part of the country, to pick up smart water on way to see GF. The car wash was in service. I briefly wondered how they keep the hoses from freezing. Tomorrow, according to my weather app has a high of 18 degrees farenheit, windchill bringing it below zero.
I thought perhaps I should get a car wash in. I’ve been driving on clay and gravel roads coated in slush and ice and my little red sedan looks like it has flames of mud on it’s flanks.
When I was a teen that area was a wild life/wetlands preserve. I would go back there to do stuff like making out or getting high. I don’t remember every thinking “Ah, this is what it’s like to be a teenager, remember this” I do vaguely remember thinking “This is some stupid shit”. I think the reason older people criticize new teenagers is that their stupid shit is stupider than their, the older ones, stupid shit was. I’m only guessing. I like to think I gauge stupid shit on the merits of it’s stupidity and not the relative stupidity of the stupid shit performing artist. But, as Jesus might say, WTFDHK (what the fuck does haredawg know)? Ok, ok, though I’d be surprised if Jesus wasn’t versed in proper use of the word fuck, and even given that his eye is on the sparrow, I don’t think I merit particular mention from on high. Perhaps it’s more like WTFITSD (what the fuck is that sparrow doing?)
I am no longer a teen and that area is no longer a preserve, it’s wetlands with houses built while I was in Oregon. The roads haven’t been improved since. People shoot deer in and out of season through their screen windows. I guess that saves on purchasing orange vests.
If I had made a resolution to type here daily I seem to be keeping it. I didn’t which means I might, type daily, not resolve. The real question is WTFAYD (what the fuck are doing?) Please, do it well, and, barring that, don’t get caught.
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