Not today. Maybe some other day, but not today. It’s just not gonna work. Apathetic irrelevance. I’m not in a bad mood, I simply don’t care and I don’t care in that Nihilist sort of way except it’s magnified and it’s awful and it feels terrible and I don’t care and I don’t want to. About anything. The dog is barfing and I haven’t seen the kids and everyone is getting there stimulus checks and I’m not because I haven’t done my taxes because I get fucked on my taxes because of the choices I’ve made and I’m over it today. Maybe tomorrow will be different, but for today I’m not interested. I’m tired and my teeth are cracked and the dentist’s office exists in some fairy tale land where nothing costs money. Fuck it. Fuck today. Fuck the whole thing. And to be clear, I’m not interested in pity or sympathy because I don’t give a fuck about that either. Not today. It’s just not gonna work and I get to do that because I’m 42 years old and I get to do whatever I want and today I want to not give a fuck because this room smells like barf and the dog is probably dying and I just don’t care.
04.15.20
Suffering is universal. Pain is individual.
We all suffer. It is a generic term for feeling pain and enduring hardship. It is universal in that it exists.
Pain, on the other hand, is specific and different to each person that experiences it.
If a push the tines of a fork into my forearm, I will feel pain from it and the pain I feel will likely be interpreted differently than if you were to do the same thing to your arm. It is this that establishes pain as an individual experience.
Suffering is different. In the same scenario, we both feel discomfort from the tines being pushed against our skin. The discomfort we feel is suffering.
Both of these, suffering and pain, are choices. It is possible to get our minds into a place where we separate our thoughts from the physical experience of the fork being pushed into the arm, whereby we would feel no discomfort and no pain. It is a choice we can make on both accounts.
It is my belief, however, that each and everyone of us is subject to feeling discomfort at some point and subsequently will experience suffering in our lives. As for the pain, that is entirely up to all of us as individuals. For some pain may be excruciating. For others, what I would consider pain might be experienced as pleasure. Therefore, the pain in this world is not universal.
04.14.20 pt. 2
Arguing is useless. Inherently it puts one against another, often with the intent of conversion. It disallows balance in its action and only occasionally reveals compromise as an outcome. It encourages judgement and contempt. Arguing is useless.
04.14.20
Get up at 3:00am and check the work email. Roll over and respond in eleven parts. Double check for spelling. Triple check. Send. Reread and find the error. Skipped an ‘R’. Not a huge deal and shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone reading this. Now I’m awake though and it’s still dark outside and somehow it’s still winter and I’m still isolated from my family. It’s not like they sleep in my bed and I don’t really ever see them at 3:00am, but the reality still lingers that I can’t see them because of distancing and isolation. It’s odd that it’s mandated now because I feel like I’ve been self-isolating for years because I’m some kind of urban hermit. This winter though. Not ending. Temps in the teens and it’s April and the little green shoots are shooting up. It should be warmer. It could be warmer. It could be. I could also not have this cough if I didn’t smoke so many cigarettes and then I probably wouldn’t think I have this virus every time, but the cessation hasn’t happened yet because the cigarettes falsely resolve the stress that’s manifested by my own worry and my own anxiety and it’s all just a crutch that I don’t really need but secretly just want because I enjoy it even though I fully acknowledge it’s kinda gross. That plus words and the National playing just above my head is the real time play by play. Covered up in a wool blanket with pillows covered in little anchors. Nothing but darkness around me. And a dog that snores. I didn’t even light the incense for this version. Conference call in five hours. Can somebody throw me a life preserver? I don’t think I’m drowning, but I sure would like to get off this boat ride.
04.13.20
I finally came to terms with doing my taxes and got upended by missing paperwork and incorrect software. Instead I stress ate an entire pizza and smashed a can of Coke like it was water at the end of some desert pilgrimage. There will be another day for taxes and the unconstitutional burping that is currently underway will subside and make way for the grotesque remorse that is sure to follow. In the meantime I will hang my head low in honor of all those that have overeaten pizza before me and make sure to make some semblance of the sign of the cross as I lay my head down tonight in the unlikely event that the veins and arteries that service my heart don’t explode with the recent addition of copious amounts of cholesterol and sodium. Actually, I have no idea how veins and arteries explode, but it seems to make sense since all the mobster movies that exist tell the story of the overweight gunslinger meeting his demise after consuming some sort of Italian fare. It could happen and because it happened in the movies it must be true. Regardless, I’m siting here and writing this on the toilet in a room in a house in Minneapolis and laughing about how ridiculous it must be for you, the reader, to have made it this far. Bookended, at each knee, by a skateboard and an open door, I’m just sitting here waiting for some level of relaxation and comfort knowing that neither will arrive until I have moved myself to the bed and assumed a fully horizontal position. Then, and only then, will I be able to take the deep, deep breaths of meditation and some kind of awkward, sideways prayer that will hopefully leave me resting humbly at the feet of the part time piece of toast known as Jesus.
It’s a real goddamn party here tonight.
04.12.20
I was once a firm believer in the idea that everything that happened, happened for a reason.
As I get older and spend more time examining my own existence and awareness and critical thinking, I am leaning further toward the idea that everything just simply happens. Without reason. Without cause. Without effect.
Everything just is.
It is not a belief. Rather, it is an acknowledgment. As such, it is a tool that allows me to stay present to the things immediately around me.
04.11.20
I remember the strip club in Boston. I remember smoking a cigar on the wall of the harbor. I remember sushi in Los Angeles and the time I walked across the border to Tijuana. I remember the pizza buffet in Red Lodge. I remember stumbling into a doorway in Paris in the rain and waking up to find sunshine. I remember buying corned beef in British Columbia and getting stranded in the middle of nowhere. I remember crying in Columbus Circle and what it felt like to see the sun rising up over Central Park for the first time. I remember drinking whiskey around a giant fire. I remember throwing up off the bike riding up the hill out of the valley. I remember the lonely drives back to Atlanta. I remember baseball in the Spring. I remember thinking I was invincible. I remember realizing I wasn’t. I remember the simplistic innocence of my Chevette. I remember nachos in the cafeteria. I remember sleeping in the park and then again the desert. I remember meeting Leo. I remember the antlers in Jackson Hole. I remember the mall in Seattle. I remember the ferry in Seattle. I remember that glass of water in Versailles and the many beers that followed. I remember seeing myself on television for the first time. I remember the feeling of feeling important. I remember realizing the arrogance in that. I remember the cookies and coffee. I remember snowboarding. I remember the bench seat in the van and the grand dreams I had there. I remember the baseball cards and the Walkman. I remember the quarter pipe. I remember the empty pool in Holbrook. I remember the Holland Tunnel. I remember Holland. I remember the Detroit airport and the Kansas City airport. I remember Memphis and St. Louis and Las Vegas. I remember the trip from LA to New York. I remember West Virginia in a blizzard. I remember Amarillo and Albuquerque. I remember the dog statue and the walks around Santa Fe. I remember getting sober. I remember getting married. I remember getting divorced. I remember Alaska and Montana and Idaho. I remember going door to door. I remember losing the phone in Chicago only to go back and find it. I remember sleeping in the truck. I remember riding a bike for the first time. I remember my first cigarette. I remember my first kiss. I remember shop class. I remember fighting on the bus. I remember wanting to graduate. I remember college. I remember the Grand Canyon and New Orleans. I remember Deer Creek and Alpine Valley. I remember Cleveland. I remember, but sometimes I forget.
04.10.20
Tuesday is Tuesday. New albums and broken glass and a cat vase that never had a chance. Walk into the wind. Stoke the coals with some paper from the bag of charcoal and cook up two slabs of cow. The peppers and the mushrooms and the onions won’t make it to the stomach because of all the protein, but a nap thereafter makes perfect sense. Get some. Have one. Drink from the firehose. Take a picture by the river and share it with all your followers. Hiding in plain sight. Wandering in to two days off like its some kind of vacation afforded only to the wealthy. Donuts. Cowboy movies and shows about human tragedy. This is now. That was then. Filterless filters. Lost in the tall grass. Haven’t driven in days and it all feels natural. Normal. Blah. Blah. Blah. No more politics or a choice between to ancient old white guys? You pick. It’ll be a hot mess when either one of these old fuckers takes the wheel or keeps the wheel. The world has enough old white men making decisions for all. Can we just be done now?
04.06.20
Be positive. The past is gone and it isn’t coming back in any other form than experiences to reference as you come across new things. It’ll haunt you if you haven’t made peace with it.
Be positive. Smile at people. Practice kindness. Life is too short to be angry and nobody gives a shit about your opinion anyway.
Be positive. They’re gone. They’re never coming back. Stay right here in the present and just be. Positive.
04.05.20 pt. 2
Only dead men are free and it is our fear that keeps us chained. April fifth was a Sunday and it has no siblings. There is no twin. This one stands alone in time and shall forever be marked by the words and the background music and the river up and down. Not even the lights were on for this trip. There was no howling. Only tears shed for the humanity and poetry and the delivery of the message. Listen with both ears and lie down in the canoe for it shall take you to the mirror and the spirits beyond. Cedar boughs. A tiny framed picture. He who talks loud say nothing. Nobody.
04.05.20
There’s a good chance you’re lost because we’re all lost and not one of us is ever going to get found because there isn’t anyone coming to look for us. We are on our own. From birth to death. The whole way whatever happens is up to us. It’s the truth. Whether we end up living some charmed life or we end up homeless, it’s entirely up to us. Yes, there are certain privileges afforded to some that are not to others.
86.9, The Ice!
The Chanticleer Commandeers Volleyball Team.
A ripped Patagonia zipper and a tool room in a weird hospital.
A drive out to some weird building for a therapy session with some stranger that charged everything and asked that I sign a receipt on a tray from a restaurant.
Fish in fish tanks that weren’t full.
That woman from California.
A dog that looked like a seal and had articulated elbows and could give hugs.
A day trip to Alaska and a person dressed as a panther.
Dreams. Just strange dreams in strange times.
04.04.20
Driveway fires. Charcoal beds. Brats and kraut and jokes about birds. Summertime. Bike rides. Giant flame throwers. Surround yourself with humor and laugh until you’re full. St. Paul or bust. We’ll make t-shirts. Get some gas station sodas and check out the river. Skip the trip. Stay apart. It’s how it goes.
04.03.20 pt. 2
If you’ve found yourself separated from people and you’re struggling with it, reach out. I can’t come visit you, but I can interact digitally. I recently joined Marco Polo and it seems to be a pretty great way to interact. If you’re on there, find me (Chris Skogen) and send me a message. I’ll reply when I can.
04.03.20
Backpacks and ice covered bushes that are just beginning to sprout buds. A walk to the grocery store to restock the cache of canned goods that rest quietly in the fourth drawer. It’s someday in April and I’m not working for the first time in 19 days. Hectic. Worrisome. Confusing. So much has shifted while so much has not. Different patterns and more intention. An economic collapse and millions without work. Runners running on the paths to keep their sanity while so many others are drowning themselves in brown liquor and beer. Keep your head on straight. Check your alignment regularly. Do what you need to. It’s gonna be a ride that lasts for a while.
04.02.20 pt. 2
Space Force
Space race
Space cars
One real long Monday
A president that can’t lead and seems more concerned with his image and his ratings than he does with the health and welfare of the people he’s been tasked with providing for.
Lies and a future of unknowns. A brain that just can’t think or produce words other than weird or strange. Lost exhausted. John Prine is going to die and Neil Young was supposed to. John Lennon did and nobody cares. Life. The final frontier. Or is it space?
04.02.20
If I knew I was going to die tomorrow, I’d write a letter and it would probably look like this...
Mom and dad, I love you. Unconditionally.
Jennifer, I love you and your brood. I always have and it hasn’t always been obvious because I’m stubborn and particular in some of the worst ways.
Jack and Olivia, I love you. Endlessly. You are beautiful and amazing and full of potential and your lives are going to be magic.
Annie, I love you. You are an incredible mother and I feel real grateful to have had the opportunity to raise beautiful children with you. I’m real glad you met Steve and I hope you two go all the way to the end.
Doug, Ralls, Raleigh, I love you. You were the best partner I never knew I needed. You saved me as much as I saved you and if I get to remember things after I’m gone, I will never forget you.
—-
Today is the last day and as I lie here in this bed I am fully prepared to close my eyes for the last time. As I look backwards, I didn’t do anything amazing or earth shattering today. In fact, today was just another typical day. I woke up and got dressed, made the bed and a cup of coffee. I took the Doug out for a piss and enjoyed two cigarettes in the driveway. Not back to back in the smokes. I always take a little pause between them and consider the pluses and minuses of lighting a second. I usually go for it. The sun was just coming up and the air was cold, but not crisp. I saw a robin in the tree and it reminded me that Spring is incredible. When I went back in the house I crapped. It’s habitual at this point. Coffee, cigarettes, poop...repeat. At some point I realized I’d taken more time to myself than I should have so I got myself ready for my commute and went down to the garage to get my bike. Normal. Helmet on. Gloves on. Lights on. Speaker on.
For the last couple of weeks I’ve really been into listening to Charley Crockett. It’s some kind of new honky tonk and it’s real good. When it plays through the speaker as I ride to work I cannot help but smile and sing along and tap my fingers on the brake levers to keep the beat. It’s real good stuff and I’d encourage anybody reading this to give it a listen.
Back to today. I brought coffee along for the commute this morning and as has been commonplace for the last few rides I stopped on the west side of the Stone Arch Bridge to take in the morning air. It was real nice to pause there today and take in the quiet sounds of the few people moving around. The coffee was extra nice. I even imagined dancing my little dance that I’ve done the last couple of days when I’ve met my friend in the same space to share the rest of the ride to work. He wasn’t there this morning and that’s alright.
The ride itself was windy and it kinda sucked but as I’m lying here now I can’t help but think of all the times I’ve ridden into the wind and felt the extra effort. It’s hard. Not impossible, but certainly not easy. In hindsight, it’s always been rewarding. Life is funny like that. Headwinds. Uphills. All of it. The extra effort is where the growth comes from. Every time.
The roads right now are pretty much empty with everyone staying at home. Pandemics are real weird and it changes everything. Not all bad, but definitely all different. Words. The final notice. How to put it all down on paper. How to translate a million lifetimes of experiences and happenings into one final letter. It seems futile. To write it all down.
Legacy.
It doesn’t fit in a letter. It doesn’t fit into a sentence or a paragraph or even a book. It’s time spent and exchanges made. I made it 42 years and I met a whole bunch of folks along the way and I did my best to make the best of everything.
I’m sorry for short changing some along the way, if that’s the way they see it. It’s useless to say it wasn’t intentional because every choice is chosen with intent. Time. We didn’t have enough. Or perhaps we had too much. Either way I am sorry for my role in your pain.
That said, I have no regrets. I have made my peace with my good and with my bad. I have always done the best I could with what I’ve had and I encourage you to look at your life through the same lens.
Take the shortcut. Take the long way. Walk the dogs to the river. Stop by on your way into work. Do all the things because you never know. You really never know and that’s obvious to me now.
Do your best. Appreciate yourself. Love yourself. Value yourself.
Tell others the same thing.
Goodnight. Forever.
I love you.
04.01.20
Smile at somebody just to see if they smile back.
03.31.20
I started a fire a long time ago and I let it burn indefinitely. It’s a smoke signal fire and it’s all mine. I started it off in the distance so that if I ever saw it as I was walking through this wilderness I would know to turn around. The funny thing is that I forget, every time, that I started it. Each time, when I see it now, I turn to talk away because I am afraid. What I fail to realize is that it is exactly my fear and the behaviors that stem from my fear that push me to walk away from the smoke. The very smoke that I put in place to warm myself of this fear.
It’s a cycle. It’s tragic. It’s my inability to let go of the past and the negative experiences I had there that keep me from feeling anything new and wonderful.
It’s really quite something.
03.30.20
Separation. Aggregation. Agitation.
One hundred funnels boiling down the ever turning wheels of our emotions. A lost and found box as big as the city. Empty streets and empty parks and empty playgrounds. The water pours over the edge.
Pull back. Step out. Get weird.
When it’s over it’ll all make sense and everybody can look backward and then forward and realize that the revolving door of life is bookended by the present and that the only change that will ever be significant is the change that will come when the door stops and we’re stuck. Only then will we decide to smash the glass and move into the open air of the street.
Pause. Distance. Abandon.
Broken records. Inescapable behaviors. We become who we are indefinitely and the only hope we have at breaking the cycle is actually breaking the cycle and that requires mindfulness and a commitment to action that doesn’t show up real often. It’s work and it’s uncomfortable and it’s hard. It’s a whole lot easier to just shelter in place and hunker down and do what we’ve always done. It’s safe.
Stay safe. Get home safe. Go home.
Have another beer. Get drunk and tell me all about how this thing is better than that thing. Tell me about circles and songs and how wonderful everything feels. Tell me I’m special and then pull everything off the table and take your stuff and go home. Head down the block. Head down the road. Head down. Meh. I’m good. I’m great in fact. This is my best year yet and if I die tomorrow I’ll be content and without regret.
Just call it. Red flag warning. Get off the beach.
03.28.20
If you are going to spend any amount of time loving anyone in this world you’d best figure out what it means to actually love yourself.
Get to know the feeling and understand it fully. When you have mastered it, give it away to those you care about. The returns on your investment will be greater than you can measure.