Another round of red meat into the cast iron. Reused potatoes and a couple of reels sent to the kid. Plenty of anxiety before the meeting today and for no good reason. I am not intimidated. I am not concerned for your wellbeing outside of your own inability to get out of your way. Write down the words. Walk the walk. Do the things. Take no shit. Fear is the thing that immediately precedes experience. Anxiety and self-doubt are the things that immediately precede confidence. We go forward. Everything becomes easier with repetition. This is nature.
09.10.23
Coffee table wood busted into splinters. Broken shingles and a lawn mower with twisted wheels. It was a choice to walk out and one that shouldn’t be leveraged against expectations. Broken hips and CPR. Fear overrides everything. Fear will always win. Fear will always win. Every time. Fear and insecurity under the umbrella of ego. It’ll make your choices for you. It’ll stifle your growth. It’ll bury your relationships.
What are you so afraid of? Being alone? It’s inevitable. Everyone ends up alone. Everyone. Nobody dies with another. Everyone dies by themselves. Practice letting go. Practice not seeking affirmation. Practice just being and being okay with it.
09.09.23
I see you there in your ivory bathroom dancing on the edge of the tub. I see you there in the weeds of your backyard wandering endless through the ant hills. I see you there in your living room standing over your bike. Get in the van. Go out for sushi. Six and then ten. You’re lost, aren’t you son? Elm Creek on a Saturday and seven stitches in the chin. Cut everything out back into smaller pieces and throw it in the fire. Someday you’ll learn. Someday the pancakes won’t taste right. Someday is Sunday and Sundays are for lunch. Load the pistols. Smoke the cigarettes. Stuff it all inside.
09.08.23
Take a few minutes. Write a few words. Paint a cardboard sign and hang it on a street sign. We’re out of office today and will be tomorrow. We’re getting older and getting bigger. We decay at a certain point and our years get cut short not because we’re dead on the outside, but because we died on the inside all those years ago. Neglect the body. Neglect the mind. It’ll be your own funeral you’re early to. The dogs know it. The birds know it. Let em lick your face and eat from your hand. It’ll be the end of you.
09.07.23
I can remember lying in an empty room with my feet outstretched toward the southernmost wall. All of the furniture had been moved out and the only thing that remained was a blue Hawaiian shirt hanging on a wooden hanger in the closet. This place was transformative in so many ways and stifling in so many others. I entered it broken and left there the same. For years I wallowed in my own existence and strapped my malaise to the back of that horse from the gables. I was young once, too. Young and impressionable. Onward.
09.06.23
We are all walking toward the cliff that is our death. Not one of us knows exactly when it will come. Many of us fear that moment. Those of us that don’t likely won’t reach that moment with a head and heart full of regret. It comes for all is us. It is unavoidable. This is the impermanence of life. This is the impermanence of everything. Nothing lasts forever and therefore nothing shall be held in such a way that it should. Everything comes and everything goes. Let everything go and everything becomes much clearer.
09.05.23
Running. Driving. Riding. Driving. Running. Driving. Laptops. Phones. Internet. Calling. Wondering. Estimating. Inquiring. Listening. Visiting.
09.04.23
Woke up under black hills and clear blue skies. Couch cushions spilled onto the floor and the toe pulled off the air conditioner. It’ll be an easterly voyage today and there’s a realistic possibility the Texas van remains. Pineapples on the door under the Harley symbol and everybody took yesterday off. Go and find god they said and try not to get stung by the bees. Fill in the pool and settle in across from the roast beef factory. One bedroom, two bedroom, three bedroom, four. The plants are dying, but they’re not. It’s almost the west here and I’m almost rested.
09.03.23
Race morning. Into the hills from the gun and then it’s up, up, up. Fifty miles into and through a lollipop. Long time listener, first time caller. Sleep on the couch and pull the cushions midstream. The bike is ready, but the rider is not. One coffee. Charge the phone. Pedal, pedal, pedal.
09.02.23
I am tired. I am frustrated. I am upset. I am angry.
09.01.23
In a car headed west. A backseat rider to a conversation. Weather and crops. Snow on the roads. Al’s Oasis and a turkey hot plate. One Coca-Cola and a quick trip through the grocery store. Leisure vans and work trucks. An endless field of sorghum. Hay bales, dead trees and million billboards. Go west. Joe West. I’m him. The rolling hills. The fields of wheat. A fence post. Not one hundred words. It happens.
08.31.23
I was awake all night taking trips to the bathroom. At one point, I didn’t make it. All of this in preparation for a preventative colonoscopy. I suppose it’s worth it because managing one’s health is paramount to all else. Today will be a short entry though. I’m tired and anxious I suppose. It’ll be over by 3:00pm. What an interesting development in this part called life. We grow up. Well, some of us do. It’s all part of it. Woof. It’ll be over soon and then I’m going to get some food that isn’t liquid. It’ll be nice.
08.30.23
Words on words on words walking down the street reciting some version of a song. I ran down the hill yesterday and eventually had to make my way back up. Tomorrow is a new day and one that should likely bring some version of rejuvenation. I suppose it’ll be a gown and some anesthesia that brings it all around. Double dogs on the porch and another in the wings. Writing writing writing. Today it feels forced and I suppose it is. Tomorrow isn’t here yet, but it could be the same again. Perhaps I need to quiet the space or the mind? Perhaps it’s the practice, but that wouldn’t make sense. Eat more. Talk less. Begin again.
08.29.23
I spent last night in a dream world and nearly caught a break to be on Saturday Night Live. I don’t recall the specifics, but I do know that it was pretty much guaranteed and that I was content with it. I can’t say that it’s ever actually been something I’ve wanted, but in whatever dream land it was last night, I was all in and it was great.
Separately, I suppose in seven Saturdays seventeen Sundays will have passed. That doesn’t make a lot of sense, but for whatever reason I’ve always leaned into writing the words seven and seventeen. Again, this is a practice in an effort to improve my skill. Exercise. Consistency.
Anyway…
Seven and seventeen. A giraffe as some kind of symbol. A thirsty whale. A lonesome drive. A new town and dinner at the bar.
08.28.23
Made acquaintance with seven strangers yesterday as we all rode along the river. Found a new path through an old city and worked our way back north. Donuts on the picnic table and a thirty dollar bill later the coffee cup was empty and it was rolling north again along the flywheel. An afternoon ride to the East found stick after stick after stick and a fair amount of discomfort. Several miles by foot and scores of the obese. Forty thousand dollars and you’re still hanging on the walls of the State Fair? Exposure they say. It’ll never make sense to me, but it also doesn’t have to. Find the path and wonder whatever happened. You’ll find the answers in the banana stand if you can get up high enough.
08.27.23
Morning light pouring through the porch windows. Fresh coffee in the cup handed down from two generations. Genuine thoughts about second home and the possibilities that lie therein for passive income. A meeting with a personal trainer is on the books and there seems to be a regular diet of proteins, starch and vegetables. This isn’t the life I saw happening when everything around me was shrouded in darkness and depression. This is what I saw coming when I looked down the road and saw self-serving doom and gloom. It’s a pretty great puzzle to find pieces for and there’s finally a table to put them all together on.
08.26.23
Chased a handful of teenaged boys through a school yard on my dream last night. No explanation as to why, but it did happen. I also had a pretty low level of patience with a couple of employees at a Subway at some point in the same subconscious experience. To summarize the whole affair, I’ll say I didn’t sleep all that well. Not for a lack of want. Practice. It’s the whole reason these words are here. Trying to get back in the habit of regular writing for whatever reason. I guess it feels good, or at least my memory of it does. Maybe I’ll never be able to restore the olden times? Maybe it’s a fools errand? Maybe it’s not like riding a bike?
08.25.23
First light with an empty water bottle. Dreams about trucks burning to the ground and a cabin in the woods. I did the twenty push-ups like I said I would, but I don’t feel like running.
The dog seems to be maintaining, but there is definitely atrophy in his face. The table in the dining room is finished, but the chairs look out of place.
Turn the tv lights on and burn a stick of incense. There’s a race coming up and a medical procedure that will likely leave you sick. Watch the tape. Make a plan. Reduce the number of words to half and keep walking. You’re failing if you’re not winning and you can always get up earlier.
Stop making excuses. Get the fucking work done. You know the rules.
08.24.23
The internet isn’t going to sail your ship or run the flag up the mast. The internet isn’t going to fix your bike and it surely won’t ride it for you. Today is a stretch. Any words placed here are ring pulled from cold, dead hands. Like Eastwood or some other longtime favorite actor. Practice isn’t easy. It’s hard to commit to doing something every day whether you’re inspired or not. It’s hard to get up, sit down and then write a bunch of words. Every day. The commitment to the practice is worth it in the long run, like it is with a lot of things. Growth happens. Writing more becomes easier. It’s practice. It’s the formation of habits and the more habits I can create that are good and add value to my life, and to the lives of those around me, the better.
08.23.23
Take a trip to Santa Fe and get lost along the way. Fix a flat tire when you have no idea and eat a sandwich in some back of the house grocery store. You’ll find yourself on the path again as soon as you’re done, but you’ll never get there as long you ride together.
Also, it’s worth mentioning that I cannot forgive you for what you did until I see fundamental changes in your behavior. You see, if I forgive you and you don’t change, I condone your actions and I cannot do that. What you said to me is irrevocable. What I watched you say to others is irrevocable. You are a patterned behavior person and you’re adjusted to being forgiven. Not here. You did things that I wouldn’t wish on anyone and I cannot forgive you for that.
It’s worth noting that I have let go of the harm and detached from it. To me you are just another human that exists and is worthy of being loved. To me you are no different than a neighbor I have yet to meet.
It’s a shame really. We were so close.