September 29: Thoughts for the Day

That incomplete kiss.  An unspoken longing.  The wish that never found words of expression. Memories and dreams that never merged into reality.  Those are the things of regret.  Those are the passions buried under what could have been, what should have been.

We must find satisfaction in what is, but we must understand what could have been. Unmet dreams, wishes, hopes, and desires are what build the tension in our lives and keep it there.

And what of those unfulfilled fantasies, then?  The only answer is to live them before the flame drinks in every bit of available oxygen; for the dream to consume the flesh before the flesh consumes its fuel.

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Rage and Hope

If ever there were a poem that demonstrates the power of poetry, this is it. Take the seven minutes needed to hear everything she has to say. If you’re at all like me, your eyes will be awash in tears, your heart will be full of rage and hope.

Posted in Climate Change | 4 Comments

Leaves

Yesterday afternoon, I looked at the leaves on the trees outside my windows and imagined how the trees will appear in two weeks, two months, four months.  I looked at the leaves and wondered where they will be at each of those points in time.  I looked at the leaves and wondered whether I will be grateful for the leaves as they fall, littering streets and driveways and forest floors with thick blankets of crunchy dry refuse that turns into slick, wet coatings for everything they touch.

I will be happy to have the new scenery, to see the trunks of trees that have been invisible for months and months, and to see more of the forest floor behind my house.  The leaves have blocked the view of the forest floor.  I’m glad they did, because by doing that, they gave me a different perspective on the forest.  But can I be happy for the litter of leaves and the work that will require of me?  I can and I will.

The only other choice would be to complain about things I cannot change. I’ve done that before to no avail.  I cannot change the nature of trees, nor would I if I could. I have no reasonable choice but to embrace the falling of leaves.

 

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September 28: Thoughts for the Day

Pieces of my life are missing.  Certain days give me pause to think about those missing pieces, and this is one of those days.  Today is my mother’s birthday.

She is missing from my life.  So is my father and so is one of my sisters. More than one friend has shuffled off this mortal coil, as well.

It’s as if the universe has been conspiring over the years to chip my world away, piece by piece.  That is, in fact, what is happening, though I doubt I can legitimately blame a conspiracy.

It would be easy to allow melancholy to fill my mind like fog when milestones bring back such a flood of memories, but it’s best to celebrate lives well-lived, instead, and recognize the fleeting nature of all things.

Today, I give my mother symbolic flowers…yellow roses…in honor of her memory.

Posted in Thoughts For the Day | 3 Comments

Unrestrained and Untrained Creative Deviance

For reasons unbeknownst to me, I started thinking about mermaids the other day.  Maybe it was the sculpture of a mermaid I saw a few years ago in a little Mexican coastal town.  Or maybe it was a neural misfire, triggering a disconnected recollection of the pictures I’ve seen of the Little Mermaid in Copenhagen.  Whatever the genesis, mermaids were on my mind.

And when mermaids are on one’s mind, one pays heed.  And one thinks about mermaids. And if one happens to be me, one begins to craft a story about mermaids.  This, I have done.  “One begins” is the operative phrase; my story has just begun.  But let me tell you what I know so far.

A young mermaid, whose name has yet to come to me, was listening to her mother’s lessons one morning.  The lesson of the morning related to the absolute prohibition of fraternizing with humans. “If you see a human, you must instantly swim away, just as fast as you can,” her mother instructed. “You are never to have any interaction with humans, and that is especially true of male humans. ”

The unnamed mermaid wondered silently what, exactly, was so forbidden about humans and especially male humans.  As youngsters so often do, the unnamed mermaid decided the admonition provided too much intrigue to be ignored.  She had to find out more about humans and, especially, male humans.  Her mother’s stern comments, though, carried a specific and awful warning that should have kept her from doing as she was thinking of doing. “Remember, my sweet, that if you ever leave the sea to join a human on dry land, your tail will disappear and will be replaced with dry, ugly, legs…and those legs cannot be traded again for your tail…it will be gone forever, as will your ability to live happily in the sea.”

***

From there, the story resides only in pieces in my head.  I’m thinking the young mermaid somehow comes across a young man and falls deeply in lust with him.  She knows her destiny if she acts on it, but her curiosity and the unfamiliar feelings of attachment conspire toward the unthinkable.

All right.  Maybe this needs more thought.  Maybe it needs a replacement idea.  Perhaps a murder mystery involving trained falcons and lecherous old men.  Or, maybe, a thriller in which the prime minister of Canada, a woman in her late forties, takes the lead in attempting to thwart the ruinous impact of a cataclysmic drop in the availability of petroleum, globally.

Maybe the prime minister of Canada is the erstwhile mermaid.  Perhaps her ex-husband, the subject of her mermaid teen lust, is involved in homicidal falconry.

I write better at times other than this.

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September 27: Thoughts for the Day

“Poetry became democratized,” the woman said, explaining to me her views of the development of poetry during the last two decades of the twentieth century.

“What I love about contemporary poetry is its multitude of voices,” she continued, citing formalist poetry, free verse, slam poetry, combined graphics & poetry, among others, as examples of the diversity of the genre.

She went on to admire the vastly expanded availability of poetry to the masses, courtesy of the internet, but then cautioned that “poetry should be read aloud.” Yes, it’s a double-edged sword, she conceded; the internet makes poetry more readily available, but it may diminish the recognition of the value of hearing, instead of simply reading, poetry.  Line breaks, stanza breaks, and other poetic devices need to be heard, she asserted.

“There is no mystery to writing poetry. The difference between poetry and other written work is that the poet has a love of both language and sound.

I listened to the voice on the phone and felt good about agreeing to write an article about her presentation to our group next month.

The conversation was interesting, thought-provoking, intriguing.  Poetry is not my favorite genre, not by a long shot, but I enjoy it.  I discovered today I enjoy talking (or hearing) about it almost as much.

Language.  That’s what it’s all about, language.   And language is about ideas.  And there you go.  That’s the thing.

 

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I Don’t Know

At the moment, the unit of measurement of time is the second. In the International System of Units (SI), a second is defined as “The duration of 9,192,631,770 periods of the radiation corresponding to the transition between the two hyperfine levels of the ground state of the caesium 133 atom.”

It has not always been so, as you might have guessed. Prior to 1956, the second was defined as the mean solar second, which is 1/86,400 of the time the earth takes to spin completely around on its own axis. From what I’ve read, the mean solar second is not a reliable measurement because of inconsistencies in the speed of the spin, altered by the gravity of the moon and the resulting tides, which slow the rotation.

From 1950 to 1956, physicists (and possibly others) responsible for defining international measurement units agreed to redefine the second as the ephemeris second, based on the speed of the earth’s orbit around the sun in 1900. That speed was determined using predictions from the “Tables of the Sun,” published by astronomer Simon Newcomb in 1895, based on observations of the sun’s position between 1750 and 1892.

There have been other adjustments. The present definition, as shown in the first paragraph, was adopted in 1967.   For more fascinating information, plus a snippet about the leap second, go to this link.

You might ask, “Why is he posting this?”  The answer is not straightforward, nor it is necessarily logical.  My exploration of the official measurement of time began with an attempt to learn whether time has any physical properties.  Yes, I know, that sounds absurd, but I wasn’t sure.  And, as it stands, I’m still not.   Anyway, I wondered if time possessed physical properties that might be changed in some fashion under the right conditions.  You know, the way gravity can “bend” light.  (Yes, if what little I understand from physics [and that is smaller than small] is correct, light is energy and E=MC2, so light can be convertible to mass, and mass is susceptible to gravitational pulls. Thus, light travelling in a straight line through space can be bent by gravity. Or so I’m told.)

Well, it seems to me time as we understand it is limited to beings in our own solar system, inasmuch as we are the only ones we know of who can measure “the duration of 9,192,631,770 periods of the radiation corresponding to the transition between the two hyperfine levels of the ground state of the caesium 133 atom” and, moreover, the only ones who care about or even experience time in the way we do.

This got me wondering about light-years and whether light-years would have the same meaning to a being on a planet in another solar system.  I think not.  As I was wondering whether time would be relevant in other places, I started wondering whether our understanding of the elements might be extraordinarily limited, as well, though we keep hearing that our space probes and über-telescopes detect elements with which we are familiar in other galaxies.

There is so much to know.  There is so much we cannot and will not ever know.  But if we cannot know and will never know, doesn’t that mean the first sentence in this paragraph is wrong?  If we cannot and will not know it, it is unknowable.  I will leave it there.

 

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September 26: Thoughts for the Day

Even the slightest breeze can move enormous trees.

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Rational Choices

A rational choice is not always the right choice.  A choice arising from fear, even a rational fear, is not always a rational choice.

I write this morning with an oblique reference few who read these words will understand.  But I hope one reader will read this and will then consider further what I have to say.

Consider this scenario.

A car, doors welded shut, is traveling at 100 miles per hour toward a nearly solid concrete wall.  There is no way for the passengers to break through the doors; the welds are too strong.  The windshield and side glass, as well, are bullet-proof and essentially impenetrable. The steering wheel is locked.

One thousand feet from the wall, there is absolutely no hope for the occupants; they will either perish instantly when the car hits the concrete wall or, if fortunate enough to be protected by the air bags, they will survive but will be mutilated and mangled.  They will be unable to do anything for themselves.   It’s that simple: either instant death when the car hits the wall, or an eternity in a coma.  The driver, realizing the potential for horror that faces the car’s occupants, pulls the failsafe device from under the seat, hell bent on ensuring he will not survive for years in a vegetative state. Once the pin is pulled, the car and its occupants will be instantly vaporized.

Five hundred feet from the wall, before the driver can pull the pin on the device, a tire blows. The car careens wildly from side to side, then flips end over end over end, coming to rest on the track just inches from the concrete wall.  The occupants slowly gain consciousness as the jaws of life rip open the doors to the car. Each passenger is gingerly lifted from the mangled wreckage, placed on a stretcher, and wheeled away to waiting ambulances.  One passenger has a broken hip.  Another suffers a bad concussion in the crash. Yet another broke one leg and lost the other from the knee down. The driver has burns.  All of them will face challenges, all of them will bear scars of the crash.  But if the driver had been successful with the failsafe advice, they would have faced no challenges, no pain, no opportunities to recover, only headstones.

Ask the passengers, and the driver, whether they would have been better off with the final protection of the failsafe device; to a person, they will say “no.”

What’s rational in this scenario?  Crashing into the wall offered two choices: death or coma.  The driver believed in the inevitability of the crash. Fortunately, the tire didn’t care.  Rationality has no legitimate place with chance. Reality broke through the inevitable  to introduce another possibility.

We must decide after the fact. We can’t assume we know beforehand, because so often we’d be wrong.  We’d miss out on the opportunities presented to us. We’d mistakenly use the failsafe device to vaporize our opportunities before we even took them.

Posted in Philosophy, Regret | 1 Comment

September 25: Thoughts for the Day

There is nothing like being slugged in the gut with a bat made of mortality to make one understand how utterly priceless life and love really are.

Posted in Thoughts For the Day | 2 Comments

Contest

My poem won the poetry contest.  Actually, I suppose it is more appropriate to say I won the poetry contest with my poem.  I am to be rewarded for my poem’s selection by being asked to read it publicly to the same audience on the same day I will publicly read another poem.  The two poems are like night and day, oil and water, excitement and lethargy, apples and automobiles.

I had just read my silly, whimsical, borderline (?) bizarre poem aloud to the group when the contest organizer announced that I was the poetry contest winner.  I think the small group present must have collectively thought, “Has this woman lost her mind?  How could another poem written by this man be considered anything but chemically-induced fantasy?”   The winning poem was not read…will not be read…until the shindig on October 4.  So the other day’s audience will continue to wonder whether the organizer was mad…and when they hear my other poem read on that day, they will decide.

It’s more than mildly amusing to me that something I wrote quickly and with little editing and modification and review and revision…in a form I rarely write (poetry) won a contest.  My personal emphasis is fiction, especially short fiction, in narrative form.  I’ve not won prizes for that (though, to be honest, I’ve never entered contests with my narrative fiction), but I have won (one) for poetry.

Posted in Just Thinking | 3 Comments

September 24: Thoughts for the Day

Early is a relative term.  Its meaning is vastly different from one context to another.  As a qualifier in connection with “morning,” the word’s meaning is innocuous.  “Early Man,” on the other hand, carries more gravitas.

But then, consider this.

This topic seems more important to me now because this morning I am leaving the house at 3:45 a.m. to take my wife’s friend to the airport.  In this context, and considering that my sleep the night before did not last more than two hours, “early morning” seems to have almost as much gravitas as “early Man.”  Possibly more.

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Machete Sharp

I bought a machete at a garage sale a few months ago. It cost only three dollars.  Seeing the price, I felt compelled to succumb to my urge to own a long, dangerous knife, the kind with a blade that speaks unapologetically of the machismo of its owner and master.

This unapologetic oratory, I should note, requires the knife to be sharp. This one was dull as a dowel.  The rhetoric, then, could not take place until I addressed that fault.

While my wife was away these past few days, I discovered that a mere sharpening stone was not equal to the task.  I realized, absent a bench grinder, my shop (such as it is) would be of little help.  Then, I realized I own a metal file with single-cut teeth, just what I would need to remove massive amounts of metal from the dowel-like blade.  And so I went to work.

In short order, the blade—while a far-cry from being razor-sharp—was at least machete sharp. I flexed my muscles and spoke unapologetically, on the blade’s behalf, into the mirror.

The mirror laughed and commented about my unimpressive biceps.  I would have sliced into the mirror for that transgression, but the blade was only machete sharp.

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September 23: Thoughts for the Day

I looked in my little black book and the pages were empty. That can mean only one thing; there are things to do and tales to tell.

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September 22: Thoughts for the Day

Reality bleeds fantasy from its shredded veins. Only the impossible is a target worth pursuing. ‘Never’ is the only destination worth sacrificing ‘now.’

 

 

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I used to be smart…

Today’s Thoughts for the Day got me thinking about things I wrote while wearing the robes of business owner and association executive.  Naturally, after reading the post that was the genesis of my Thoughts for the Day, I spent some time reading old business blog posts.  Some of my posts were deadly dull in the extreme.  But I remain proud of others, especially because I espoused views that are contrary to so much of what is mainstream thinking in business today and, in particular, in association business.

The one post of which I am especially proud did not generate any responses.  Indeed, I never attempted to promote my company blog, so it’s probably nobody but me ever read it.  That matters not.  What matters to me is that I put my thoughts into words and I put my words online for anyone to see.  I read the post this morning and thought to myself, “hey, I used to be smart.”  Seriously, I’m proud of what I wrote, more for the ideas I espoused than the manner in which I presented them.  I wish I had done more to encourage readership of the old company blog. (I did invite my clients to read each of my posts, but they rarely did.)  You can read the original post here, but I’ll reproduce it in its entirety below, just because…

Thinking Across Time in Foreign Languages

Let me explain the title. Or maybe I won’t. Maybe we’ll see whether—after you read what I have to say—it’s as obvious to you as it is to me.

Experienced association executives, as well as less-experienced but no less committed people who are relatively new to the field, frequently talk about what it takes to be “successful” in association management. My first reaction to the question usually is that the success of an individual generally depends on the collective intelligence of the boards with which they work…the smarter the board, the more likely the association executive will be successful.

Obviously, it’s not quite that simple, but there is, in my experience, a very direct correlation. Lest you think that I place all the responsibility, and lay all the blame, on boards, let me clarify by saying this:

Assuming an individual is relatively intelligent and can adapt to a diverse set of personal styles among board members, he or she is very likely to be at least moderately successful, provided he or she is dealing with board members who are intelligent enough to leave the bulk of their personal agendas and biases outside the board room. And, of course, provided he or she has sufficient personal integrity to focus on what is best for the association and its members. No matter how committed, though, someone of average or below average intelligence generally is not suited to association management; the likelihood of encountering board members who demand quick wits and intellectual capacity in their executives is simply too great.

In case you wonder what the underlying message is here, let me be clear: to be successful in association management does not require dazzling brilliance. Success can be had by anyone who is intelligent, well-informed, well-read, and tolerant of different personality styles. Of course, those people who enjoy success must also make it their business to learn and fully absorb a vast amount on information and knowledge relating to association management. This information and knowledge ranges from leadership theory to antitrust law to financial management to risk management to strategic deployment of technology…and on and one. And, of course, the successful association executive must maneuver around or re-educate the occasional board member who is politically or morally corrupt.

Before going any further, it’s important to understand what I’m referring to when I say “successful association executive.” What I’m referring to is someone who is recognized as a leader by the board members and association members with whom he or she works and who helps lead the association to accomplish its objectives. Beyond that, a successful association executive helps boards articulate direction for the association and brings disparate groups of members and staff together so that they understand and embrace the “cause” for which the association works.

Thus far, when I have spoken of success, I have referred to success with a little “s.” When we start talking about Success with a capital “S,” we begin talking about characteristics that go beyond above average intelligence and integrity.

The world of the Successful Association Executive is experienced only by those association executives who possess personality and intellectual traits that place them in the rarified atmosphere of ‘homo universalis.’ These are people who think deeply and who refuse to allow their ideas to be bound by commonly-held or conventional beliefs. They tend to acknowledge and value the contributions to mankind of all cultures, recoiling at what they perceive to be the rabid ignorance of provincialists, hyperpatriots, anarchists, and others who are nothing if not certain that their points of view are right.

What is the definition of “capital S” success? In my view, it is what makes an association stand out as a beacon or role model for others. And what “it” is is a recognized sense of moral authority and leadership that comes not from blind adherence to dogma but from careful assertions of principle based on a comprehensive understanding of facts.

An association that wields tremendous power without capturing a sense of true leadership is not successful. I could name plenty of examples, but that would do no good. Examples of organizations that do exemplify the exhibition of moral authority and leadership (though not without their own share of stumbles) include the American Red Cross and Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders). While it’s rare for the “average” association to have sufficient power in its mission to justify a sense of morality, it’s not impossible. Associations that have contributed to standards that benefit the public at large in some way (e.g., standardized sizes of canned foods, standard sizes of tires, standard sizes and nomenclature for screws and nails, standard ways of planting crops, etc.) may also claim a sense of service that translates quite well into the larger “morality” that I speak of here. But the local real estate association also can be a moral leader by helping its members collaborate on ways to help first-time homebuyers achieve homeownership and the business association can become that leader by helping struggling businesses obtain the knowledge and skills necessary to survive and prosper.

The people who lead those associations (or who led them through periods of growth or significant influence) are among those who probably fall into the category of Successful Association Executives. Successful Association Executives are much more than technicians who know the nuts and bolts of operating the small businesses they run (for that’s what most associations are).

Instead, they are people who share a vision with the volunteer leaders of the organization. They are people who challenge common wisdom, ask tough questions, set aggressive and challenging goals, and embrace disparate factions within and without the association.

They are the Muslims and Christians and Jews who would read books by Richard Dawkins; the atheists who would read 90 Minutes in Heaven; the liberals who would listen intently to Rush Limbaugh’s radio programs; or the hard-core right-wingers who would read Greg Palast’s Armed Madhouse.

Successful Association Executives tend to be “middle-of-the-roaders” in many facets of their lives because they can understand and appreciate so many points of view. They recognize the seeds of truth that often are hidden in the emotions that inform the opinions on all sides of particularly contentious issues. For that reason, among others, they tend to be excellent arbiters in difficult circumstances.

So, here we are at the end of this diatribe and I wonder: does the title make sense now?

Posted in Philosophy, Wisdom | 1 Comment

September 21: Thoughts for the Day

I wish to call the world’s attention to a rant I posted on my company blog, but which nobody read, on July 22, 2008. There is no reason to believe the world will pay heed this time around, either, but I am reminding the world of the opportunity, nonetheless. Go to this place to read about tilting at windmills.

My favorite sound-byte from my rant?  “The chickens inhabiting the lavish coops we built with our own arrogance have now come home to roost.”

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Free-Form Thought Packets

Some things are more readily available in solitude.

For example, this morning for breakfast, I fried an egg and toasted two slices of pumpernickel to make my own version of a fried egg sandwich.  Lunch, similarly, was something my wife would find unappealing: a hot dog wrapped in a slice of wheat bread, dressed with a concoction of Louisiana hot sauce and sour cream…washed down with a nice glass of Diamond Bear Paradise Porter.

It’s not that my wife would prevent me from having these things for my meals, it’s just that she would not share them…so it’s easier for both of us to eat the same things most of the time. But, inasmuch as she is off gallivanting around the SF Bay Area, I can indulge myself in my admittedly less-than-healthy menus.

And it is indulgence; I recognize it for what it is. Not only is it indulgence, it is a peek at my life without benefit of discipline and good sense. Yesterday’s lunch of pickled herring and tomatoes at least included a vegetable (technically a fruit, but still…).  Today, not so much. I love veggies, but when I’m looking out only for  myself, they seem a little more work than I think should be required for lunch.  Peeling and, possibly, cooking things like carrots and zucchini and yellow squash and preparing greens seems too much effort just to satisfy my cravings; it’s not too much to do if I’m doing it for my favorite wife.

I’ve not written this morning, except for my early posts.

I’ve not done much around the house.  I drove to Hot Springs to do some grocery shopping (to find Kroger apparently stopped carrying Minute Maid lemon juice…as has every other grocery around here).  Fortunately, according to the Googleverse, it is perfectly workable to freeze lemon juice in an ice tray and put the frozen juice-cubes in a plastic bag in the freezer, taking out a cube each time fresh lemon juice is required.

That last paragraph was work; I’ll need to drink another glass of porter now.

Posted in Just Thinking | 1 Comment

Growl

I already posted, on Facebook, photos of the two pieces of abstract art (acrylic paintings) I worked on yesterday.  So, I won’t post them here, for fear of being labeled an egotist of epic proportions. (How could I cope with such a tragedy?)

The blank canvas has been nagging at me for months; for some reason, what little artistic talent I possess was unleashed today, along with a bit of clumsy  artistic bumbling. I appreciate the positive comments; words of encouragement are always welcome, even when one suspects they arise from kindness, rather than admiration.

While I have virtually no artistic skill, I believe I may have sufficient creativity that, with some basic instruction in technique, I might produce evocative and provocative art. Then again, maybe not.

Now, on to matters of more urgency and import.

I attempted to have breakfast at a Mexican restaurant just outside the Village (El Padrino) that, for months, has been promoting that  it will be “serving breakfast soon.”  Yesterday, the sign said “Now Serving Breakfast.”

I parked at 7:05 a.m., five minutes after it ostensibly opened.  I was greeted in the parking lot by an “Open” sign that flashed repeatedly in pink neon. Once inside, I waited for a staff member to show me to a seat, all of which were empty.  I said, in a rather loud voice, “Hello?”  And again.  And again.  My voice may have been drowned out by the loud Mexican Muzak.  So I got louder. “HELLO!!”  Crickets.  At 7:12 a.m., I wandered back to the counter where I gather I would have paid my bill if anyone had been present to give it to me.  There, I saw several one-page (back to back) menus; it could have been Denny’s.  Virtually no Mexican dishes (that’s not fair…there was an omelet or two that mentioned hot peppers, Mexican spices, etc.  After one and a half minutes of looking at the menu, still having neither seen nor heard any signs of a restaurant staff, I left.

I had a similar experience at lunch at Arkansas Pantry BBQ (where I waited 15 minutes for a waiter/waitress or water service, even, before I stood up and walked out).

Is it me?

 

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September 20: Thoughts for the Day

You rarely have opportunities to correct past mistakes. Take them. All of them. If they don’t present themselves, seek them out.

On even fewer occasions, you’re presented with second chances at missed opportunities to do or be good.  Only a fool would squander such a gift.

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Drive-Write-Focus

This morning, I’m off to drive my favorite spouse to the airport, whence she will wing her way to San Francisco for a four-day high school reunion getaway.  I will occupy my time with various projects I choose to pursue, along with some focused time to write. I’ve stopped posting the writing I’m serious about, as that eliminates its eligibility for first publication by most traditional publishers.

Yesterday, during my writers’ critique group, the group leader lauded a piece I’d offered for critique, suggesting it would be good for a public reading at an event scheduled for next May.  Other members of group liked it, as well, though one member said “you’re weird;” apparently, she equates my personality with the bizarre subject of piece I submitted for review.  The story was unusual; I’ll give her that.

Thanks to a blogger friend’s photo postings and her discussion of cameras, I finally stopped talking about buying a new camera and actually did it.  It arrived by UPS late yesterday afternoon, but I was too spent to do more than open the box to confirm its contents.  Soon, though, I’ll explore the camera and what I can do with it.  I bought the very same camera she did; I figure if she considers it a decent camera and a good buy, it will meet my needs just fine. I even ordered it from the same place. I’ll quickly add that the quality of the photos will not equal hers, though, until I have considerably more experience under my belt.  Thanks, Robin, for allowing me in on your discussions!

It is astonishingly early, even for me, so I will get about my business of driving in the dark to enable my wife to catch an early morning flight.

 

Posted in Just Thinking | 4 Comments

September 19: Thoughts for the Day

Post 262. Might as well make it to 365. Thanks Robin & Trisha for the encouragement.

If you can’t hear yourself whistle, you may be playing a trombone.

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Search for Meaning

Lust and muscle and bone and blood,
he was a tangled fury, when he fell with a thud.
His eyes were blazing but his nerves were shot,
he tried to move, but found he could not.

The edge of the cliff was a little closer, now,
but try as he might he couldn’t keep his vow
to end it all if things went horribly wrong,
a promise he’d written in a country song.

The pistol was empty and the knives weren’t sharp
so he tried to find another way to hear the angel’s harp.
He tried to end it all by holding his breath,
well that’s a piss poor way to cause one’s own death.

He turned his head to the west and then south,
looking for poison pills to put in his mouth,
but the pills had spilled by the liquor river,
where he’d tried to drink himself to death, marinating his liver.

Alcohol had failed him, didn’t take his life,
but it ruined his mind, so he’d lost his wife.
Now he needed to find a way to die
but his body had failed him and he started to cry.

A kind young woman happened by just then
and saw the tear-stained sinner, taken down by sin.
So she pulled her revolver and she used the gun.
What strange behavior from a former nun.

She slipped the gun inside her modest habit
and hopped away quickly, like a bunny rabbit.
Concealed carry guns go in the strangest places,
and you can’t tell by looking into people’s faces.

She figured he needed killing, so it was justified,
and he’d wanted to die, it wasn’t homicide.
Turns out she left the church when she was twenty-one,
but the habit still fits, so she plays like a nun.

Except, of course, when killing drunken men
who are deeply suicidal and steeped in mortal sin.
There may be a moral in this tale, but I don’t know where,
I keep looking for it, maybe it’s not there.

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September 18: Thoughts for the Day

Today is the 261st day of the year.  The 261st post I’ve called “Thoughts for  the Day.”

I think it’s time to kill this fantasy.  I imagined a “thought a day” could be therapeutic in some fashion.  But it’s just become embarrassingly comic.

My mood for the moment is decidedly dark.   Maybe I’ll change my mind or maybe I’ll acknowledge the pointlessness of it.

 

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The Courtesy of a Reply?

The envelope almost shouted at me: “Please favor us with the courtesy of a reply.”  That not-so-subtle effort at instilling guilt in me resulted in just the opposite of what the marketer wanted.  That blatant suggestion—that failure to respond to the marketer’s unsolicited and unwelcome intrusion in my mailbox would be a discourteous act—backfired.  It also made me wonder what planet the copywriter inhabits.

Why would a marketer try to blackmail a potential customer by appealing to the prospect’s guilt-avoidance response? I never feel guilt for ignoring marketers’ unsolicited materials; I suspect I am not unique in that way.  What does this senseless strategy accomplish?

“The courtesy of a reply.”  No, I will favor the marketer with “the discourtesy of dead silence.”

I’ve noticed these insulting attempts to shame me into replying typically come from investment advisors inviting me to a steak lunch or dinner at an upscale steakhouse. Perhaps I should reply, after all.

“My former neighbor was kind enough to deliver your invitation, which was left in the mailbox where I used to live. I will be delighted to attend your event, inasmuch as I have been unable to afford steak since becoming homeless.”

Why do I feel the need to be such a damn cynic? There are days I wonder whether there’s a solution that doesn’t involve murder or suicide. Buddha didn’t come through, though it’s hard to place blame on Buddha.  But the way my mind works, I’ll try.

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