08.22.23 pt. 2

Turn off all of the noise. Shut the app down and abandon the conversation.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

Everything you have coming in is information and it is either adding value to your effort or it is taking value from your effort. You get to pick what stays and what goes. You get to decide which streams have access and which one don’t. You can get the app for that.

Create the behavior. Develop the discipline. Execute at a high level.

There will be judgement. There will be abandonment. There will be casualties. It’s part of the process. Know the circle. Study it. Live it. Breathe it. It gets exponentially smaller until it disappears. You’re learning. You’re growing.

Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

Shut off the noise.

08.22.23

An empty bottle and an old pair of shoes. Two dogs sleeping in the bed. The alarm clock goes off every morning at the same time and the mind is conditioned to hear it, shut it off and move past it without a hiccup.

Push-ups. Everything is stiff.

Toothbrush. Coffee cup. Put the lid back on it.

It’s going to be a warm one today. The kind that will pull every ounce of moisture out of your body and leave you sweating through your clothes.

Random. Thoughts strung together as practice. Get ready. Tie your shoes. Don’t forget to drink water.

08.21.23

First things come first, before the other things. It’s called prioritizing and sometimes I’m not very good at it. During other periods, I’m great at it. The trouble arises because there doesn’t appear to be any indicating factors between when one period ends and another begins. I just sort of stammer around bouncing off of one and slamming into the other. To me it’s my natural existence and is perfectly normal. Since I cannot see through the eyes of another, I suspect the pinball effect is a bit much at times. So it goes. The nice part today is that my self-awareness seems to have reached a point where I no longer feel the need to mask what I know to be how I am in an attempt to protect myself from being judged. Instead, I am open to the idea of growth and, as such, allow myself the luxury of talking through the trouble spots when they arise. Real neat.

08.20.23

Burnt toast from a toaster that was never plugged in. A pile of wood in the backyard wilting in the summer rain. The back fence is a garden wall and beyond that are the railroad tracks. Some endless amount of mileage between here and wherever those giant boxes of capitalism end up. Lawless. Like a sleeping dog. Turn the lights on with your voice. Set up some kind of timer to keep you off your phone. Get a journal. Make sense of the senseless. Wander. Get lost. Find Jesus. Get lost again. It’ll never end up the way you think.

08.19.23

Coffee table enterprise lost at sea and it doesn’t matter because the newspapers won’t tell you the truth. In fact, all they ever do is remodel the front page and slap it on top of everything they printed yesterday and the day before that. Ad after ad after ad. Sales people selling to sales people. It’s a vicious cycle of permanent resident nomads wandering from their home to their office to their vacation home and back again. Get lost. Run a mile. Ride a century. Don’t buy into the nonsense and trust no one. You came in alone and you’ll leave the same way.

08.18.23

Coffee brewing in the pot from the grounds dumped in last night. Cardboard recycling managed to make its way to the curb. Busses rolling by with their heavy turbine sounds. One dog whines and the other says nothing. Here it is, morning again. It comes every time until it doesn’t and when it doesn’t we’ll never know so the truth is that it comes every time. Counting words as though somehow just emptying my mind onto this page isn’t enough. I did make a deal with a colleague to write one hundred words every morning and this is exactly that.

Write the words.

Hold ourselves accountable.

Do the things.

05.08.21

Another cup of coffee. One per day. Drink more water and get decent sleep. The goal is eventually no coffee, but for now it serves pretty well as a routine. Still practicing being alone in this house. Sometimes the aloneness is exactly what I crave. Rarely it is not. I suppose it balances eventually, but that’s cart in front of the horse stuff. Ride the bikes. Mow the lawn. Take no shit.

05.06.21

A Short List of Drugs:

Money, Power, Sex, Experience, Memories, Cocaine, Alcohol, Pride, Fear

A Short List of Non-Drugs:

Nature, Laughter, Hugs, Marijuana, Bikes

05.04.21

Whatever is bothering you today won’t bother you further down the road.

Everything is temporary. Everything.

Get up. Do the things you need to do.

Keep going. Keep pushing.

Your time will come and things will get more comfortable. It’s inevitable.

05.01.21

It’s the first of May. Put it in a basket and leave it on the neighbor’s step. It used to happen. Thirty years ago. Hard to believe.

Three days on the bike. Today makes four. Baseball in the afternoon. Kids in the Eve.

I’m glad they’re here. They are, too. It took a while, but it happened. Piece by piece.

Look forward. Only forward. No regret. Hit the grave with a smile for everyone.

04.30.21

I can’t talk to you because I can’t.

I can’t talk to you because I just spent the last twenty years practicing the art of letting go.

I can’t talk to you because for two decades I learned how to detach myself from people, places and things as a way to protect myself from getting hurt.

I can’t talk you to because for too long I have been too good at allowing people, places and things to slide into and out of my life in a way that can only be described as effortless.

I did that for more than twenty years and I got real good at it.

I did it and I knew that it was harmful to everyone and everything involved and while I tried to minimize the damage, I wasn’t able to eliminate it…and then in January something shifted.

In January I turned a corner and I bought this house and I began to settle into the idea that I can end the cycle and I can learn to attach in healthy ways.

In January I got a little closer to me and as time has marched on I feel like I’m a little closer every day to letting one more person, or one more thing, or one more place into who I am.

It’s where I’m at and because I’m here, I need to be here by myself and I need to keep some stuff out because some of the stuff has the capacity to draw me right back into those old habits and that’s not good for anybody.

Getting shut out is a bummer and it usually comes without explanation or perspective. I think that makes it suck even more. Everyone is suffering. Everyone is experiencing things that are uncomfortable. Everyone is also pursuing their happiness. It’s important not to stand in the way of that.

04.28.21

Rode to work today. It’s a real nice spin. Puts me past a mansion pretty early. It’s a crapshoot or some kind of Springsteen song or something. Gonna ride tomorrow, too.

It’s good for the heart. Way better than living in New York.

Drink a gallon a day. Maybe more. Dial it up. Maybe somebody answers.

Reach out your hand if your cup be empty.

If your cup is full, may it be again.

04.27.21

Look in the mirror. Acknowledge the reflection.

Breathe deep. Exhale.

Pause. Reflect.

Perspective has many faces.

04.24.21

I moved the plants around today in an effort to resurrect one of them. Also, the fence appears to be holding back those that shall not enter the yard. If only Doug knew they weren’t coming back. The walk was nice. Took the path the kids know. All the sights were sighted and then the sun came out. Porch life happened and hours worth of chill were entertained. East. West. Wind.

04.23.21

Over under and around the outside. It’ll never make sense to anybody but me and that’s the ways it’s going to be. Facts. Walls up. Lawn mowed. One day with a tailwind and the next in the opposite direction. Work harder. Sleep less. Push yourself until you’re asleep standing up. Never mind the vacation. Never mind.

04.22.21

The blue wall of silence has met the solid wall of sound and all the goons are checking their guns at the door. The lyrics help where the words fall short, but it’ll be the action that really paints the pictures that’ll hang in those museums of the future.

We’re gonna get there if we keep pouring into the streets. We’re gonna get there if we keep knocking on those doors. We’re gonna get there if we keep acknowledging things done well. We’re gonna get there when we can truly identify we. We are.

04.20.21

After a bit of a rest, I am back to give this another go. It’s funny how the habit of writing can just slip away.

More soon.

02.10.21

I am not the same person I was:

2 months/years/decades ago

Everything is different now.

02.09.21 pt. 2

Tacos in a mansion and some ham salad on the run. Eat dinner around a spool and get thrown out accordingly. Look backward. Look forward. Everything is irrelevant.

Things are settled now. Settled down. Settling down.

Moved in. Lamps assembled. Chairs arranged. It’s the memories that get sorted in the evenings after work. The cowboy hat on the wall. The creativity spoiling in the fridge. Television minus politics and an abundance of time.

There’s no excuse for the excusing. There’s no arrangement for the arranged. There’s no explanation for the explained.

Drawings on the bathroom wall and some old home movies in the tray underneath the tv. Life was a bit more simple before. It may be again. It may be already.