If you get your hopes up, I take no responsibility for their being dashed.

This year is ending, and my feelings are deeply conflicted. "Suck it, 2010!!" comes readily to mind, but it is unnerving in its similarity to the "Suck it, 2009!!" of memory. Setting myself up for disappointment doesn't seem to be a winning strategy, but the alternatives are no more appealing. All I know is what I've seen, and this year has not lacked in the experience department. Learning experience? Let me get back to you on that.

The truth is, right now? I'm not making plans. I'm not looking ahead. I'm checking things off the list, in accordance with empty calorie axioms and generic dime a dozen defaults. Go team. What comes next? Pick a pattern, but don't get too comfortable.


Happy New Year.

Seems like a misplaced obligation. There's talk from time to time, but the sound is thin and holds little in its form. But even the small parts help to make the whole, and respect is not a finite resource. So, we come to the dusty corners, we apply ourselves awkwardly... body language helps when other semantics come apart. It is a little thing, but when there is a call, we do our part.

And then there are the gears. Tireless in appearance, they are symbols of hope and strength for the less rigid. But even these will experience their fatigue in time, and the more disrupted they find the natural rhythm, every minute loss of cadence will be calculated into the eventual end point. This can be taken several ways, and one can resort to any number of emotions ranging from stoic to histrionic, but there is no pass/fail. It is what it is. We move on, until we don't.

What is to be made of all of this? Perhaps that question comes naturally, but it does not follow that it should always be the correct one. What is in the nature of the need to triumphantly dissect, separate and catalogue the experience? Perhaps it is okay to take a vacation from the reductive and the deductive, to set aside pathological score-keeping, and to count only one blessing at any given moment.

This would be the moment. That would be the blessing.

Oh oh!

i wroted you a post but zoombees ated it !!


seeeeessss !!


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7BnOUOkcr9c


yaaaaiii


im dancin!

Coming home to crisis and chicken littles did not dampen the mood noticeably.
The overshadowed turmoil played out and was resolved with minimal devotion,
overridden by stronger fare still resting on the limbic palate.

Chicken and fish, fish and chicken, fries extra well done.
Inevitably, the quadratic nature asserted itself:
A compass rose turned inward and victorious.
Three rounds in funny shoes until all the strength had left us.
A step up to silver in the last fading moment...
One whole integer separating the balance.

Is it respect? Comradery, perhaps. A last jab thrown over the fence before the separation of night, a summation open to the whims of prospectors. And we will find our own treasures, personal mitigated victories included, to place just so on the mantle of fond recollection.

tap tap.

The brilliance of a clearly sullen day is not self-evident. A complex combination of factors tumble together unguided by a trained or simply experienced eye. The usual suspects present an unconvincing facade of the unique, but unmasked reveal merely the inconsequential. This is the true dreariness that lives in every day, be it rain or more commonly shine. Sometimes when it rains, though, windows will open. Stubbornly, spitefully, but inevitably.


Render unto the misty focus of background all that is familiar, like washing leaves off pavement. Dwell uncharacteristically upon a single glassy bead and try to discern a separation between incremental tones; find them, put them aside, and collect your things. Whatever is left belongs to you. Take these and move on.

Be diligent in your task, be repetitive, be rote. Soon, you will be practiced, be distracted, and be newly aware.

You will be rewarded.

I arrived back from the Falls after sunset. My spot was still available, and my theory is that nobody feels comfortable pulling in next to the Harley; this is okay by me. As I am sliding one black car next to the other, I don't have to worry about clearance issues.

Exiting the car, collecting my bag and my paraphernalia, I saw a somewhat familiar woman on the end of a leash, only vaguely in control of her canine companion. We had met before, the three of us, and I was proud of myself that although some time had passed, I remembered at least one of there names. "It's Peanut, right?" I asked. This set the nervous owner moderately at ease -- I've noticed that the owners are very careful, co-defensive perhaps, going overboard in pre-emptively protecting the citizens from their barky, toothy charges. This frustrates me, for I want to meet and make friends with every single dog I come across.

Peanut is a darling little boy. He's all fluffy and short, somewhat older and in theory less robust of constitution, but you'd never know from the quietly energetic enthusiasm with which I am overcome and sniffed. His handler had made valiant yet vain attempts to pull him back, but apparently the cord is elastic... or he just doesn't care.

I mentioned to his woman that I had just gotten back from the Falls, and how that probably loaned many interesting smells. She opened up even further, telling me how she loves it there, and how Peanut loves it there. She told me she doesn't take him up there much anymore, since he had arthritis. I joked that I do too, but I think it was missed. In any case, I was pleased that I could transport some appreciated essence back home. A sniff-o-gram, if you will.

And then. It always makes me self conscious when I stop to pet the doggies. They don't mind, and they'd let me continue all day, but I wonder how much their owners are tolerating me, being polite but increasingly frustrated, so reluctant pulling away happens sooner rather than later. But this is where I just love Peanut that much more. His tiny little fluffy legs run after me. It makes me feel as if I'm not just another sniffing post, but a real VIP. That is, a Very Important Peanutfriend. It is good times, and I look forward to our next crossing of paths.

Sorry, didn't see you there.

How's things? Good, I hope.

Well, I'm a little busy right now, but if you'd like, maybe we could meet up later for tea and catch up? It's been a while, and a lot's been happening on this end. I'm sure you've got stories to tell as well, and I'd love to hear them.

You've got my number, right? Lets chat.

Great seeing you.

ta.

Happy New Year.


(The brevity of this statement is a testament to the sheer volume of what is left unsaid at this particular time.)


Have a great one.
Don't die tonight.

Hi there.

Recently there have been several polite comments coming my way suggesting that perhaps I have not been as attentive as I could be in various respects and manners. To that end, I simply wish to express my understanding and state that my aim is to correct this oversight in the near future.

Thank you.
-management

Woke up too early, a little too late; out of the gate, dodged a bullet but pissed off fate.

Tired, but that's habit now. If I look at the right needle,
I'm making progress. Look around anywhere else and it feels
like I'm falling behind. Ignoring doubts has not so far been
a winning strategy, so maybe I should listen right now. But,
not right now exactly. Right now, the first hint of song at
the first hint of blue forming in the black, not quite the
right environment for thinking too deeply (even if it seems
to come so easily). Sometimes it is better to reach for the
unintuitive but historically accurate option. Lets all learn
something from this, grow, and be better people. It'll help
us out immensely in the long run.

It's good to be back sometimes, in spite of all the reasons why.