D-Day

 

Background music is courtesy of iTunes. iTunes is not bad, yet I’m not convinced that I wouldn’t be better of returning to Media Monkey. Today’s blog begins with “Embryo” by Pink Floyd playing in the background.

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When I first started this blog I had intended to produce all sorts of profound ponderings about religion and politics, two things which, like it or not, I believed touch our lives on a daily basis. Well, that quickly degenerated into a couple of quickie book reviews and – that was it!

 

As I like to brag whenever I have the chance: I am a published author with bunches of book sales in legitimate book outlets. Does anybody remember Borders? However, the truth is more complicated. Those “books” aren’t great works of fiction. For the most part, except for the parts I made up out of whole cloth, they are non-fiction tomes. My skills are, and remain, as a putter-down of lots of words in a short amount of time. I can fill up space, but except for the work of a skilled editor, my wife, my words would amount to little more than aimless dribble, wasting paper that might have otherwise been more productively used in the toiletries department. Not to mention that, left to my own devices, I would probably use up my word processor’s allotment of commas sooner than you can count to 2,000 words.

 

Of course, I’m not a total loss. In order to “prove” myself I did write, for a short period of time, a “humor” column in a Canadian ad-rag. I guess that would technically have made it a “humour” column. But, no matter, it was damn funny (I thought) and I did get paid. It was in Canadian money which after conversion seems a little less impressive. Why in the hell would anybody pay you X-dollars and 72 cents? Couldn’t they just round it up?

 

This brings me back to the subject of the first paragraph: this blog and its true purpose. Writing is like riding a bicycle, sort of. Maybe you never forget how to ride but you sure as heck do get rusty. I needed to work out some of the wobble, get back to where I could stand on the handlebars while coasting downhill at 25 miles per hour, on a gravel surface.

 

When I re-entered the blog world I made a decision to avoid the navel-gazing and attempt to put together a readable and potentially humorous 700 or so words. It’s not as easy as I thought it might be, especially when the approach taken has been sometimes embarrassingly close to a personal journal.

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Current tune on the playlist: “Noah’s Dove” by 10,000 Maniacs. This is perhaps one of the most meaningful songs ever written. Perhaps. It sounds like it might be anyway. The truth is I can’t understand a thing that Natalie Merchant sings. But it sure sounds deep.

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But back to unfunny navel gazing. The name I chose for this entry was D-Day. Tomorrow is D, meaning diagnosis, day. I can’t pretend that I’m unconcerned about a biopsy, which, at best, will say you hurt like hell for no good reason at all. At worst it will identify a type of cancer. Yet, in all truthfulness, I’m not all that concerned at this point. I have a been-there done-that attitude. Whatever happens, will happen. The problem, as I tell my wife, is that, in spite of my agnostic/atheistic leanings God really likes me. The downside to this apparent fondness is that potentially means he’d like to see me sooner than not.

 

So how does this relate to all the nonsense leading to this point? Well, as I said, if not for my wife, my writing-creds would consist of unwritten chapters to never published books. If not for the borrowed or co-opted strength of my wife my stoic bravery in facing the dreaded “C” word would more likely take the appearance of a wiggly-kneed mass of jello attempting to a unicycle across Niagara Falls. (And if that last sentence ain't proof that she’s not editing this mess, I don’t know what is.)

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The final song in tonight’s blog set: “Ain’t No Way” by Little Bill.

The Week That Will Become the Week That Was

 

Background music is courtesy of iTunes Shuffle. Today’s blog begins with “Wall of Denial”by Stevie Ray Vaughan playing in the background.

 

This will be the week that was – maybe – at least for a little while longer.

 

Politics;

 

Well I have a friend – I guess, who has absolutely no problem framing liberals in the most vile and stereotypical ways possible. Liberals kill babies, coddle criminals, hate legitimate Americans, lie, steal, cheat, want to steal your guns, and re-distribute your wealth. It’s very much a cold-war mentality having settled on a new red menace.

 

The problem with this approach is that it forces my back against a wall. Am I a liberal? Well, maybe not, but I am now. The truth is that few of us are either all liberal or all conservative. It’s seldom an all one way or the other proposition. Yet many people would prefer that we frame every discussion in that extreme manner.

 

I support Obamacare – I think. It tackled a real problem: healthcare in the United States. But, it’s over 20,000 pages long. I could never knowledgably and truthfully make a statement of full-out support. Yet the ideological grandstanding that is driving all-out efforts to mindlessly defeat it force me to take such a stance. The truth is that in its 20,000-plus pages I’m sure that there are items that my liberal and conservative friends would agree are in need of additional fixing. (Obamacare is hardly some liberal manifesto as it is reasonably similar to a proposal first put forth by Richard Nixon.)

 

Playlist: "My Humps" by Black Eyed Peas. There are some songs where not understanding the lyrics wouldn’t be so bad.

 

A well regulated Militia being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms shall not be infringed.

 

It’s all about the guns. But before even beginning to wonder whether or not Obama is attempting a gun grab it might be worth considering what the above words say.

 

They don’t say that you can’t regulate arms – just the opposite. That would seem to indicate that registration, background checks, and all sorts of limitations are fair game. Maybe even more importantly the second amendment places restrictions on the federal government. States would seem to be a little freer to trample on second amendment rights – within the allowances of their own constitutions.

 

In a perfect world there would be no guns. Livestock would simply walk up to your door and die whenever you were hungry. Obviously the world is less than perfect, and things evolved differently. Guns are a part of our reality. But that’s a manly hunting story and not really what is being talked about. Assault weapons, handguns, ammunition cartridges, registration, background checks – that is all the stuff of controversy. Is anything that is being proposed part of some insidious plan to disarm the public? Is it an attack on out second amendment rights?

 

I’m sure there is something somewhere that proposes to trample second amendment rights, but it doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of passing, so I think for now it is sufficient to focus on what is possible.

 

Does requiring registration and background checks infringe upon anybody’s right to own a weapon. We allow similar checks for voting, yet don’t necessarily see that as an infringement upon voting rights. I fail to see a significant problem, unless. . .

 

Unless you believe the government is out to crush us all. If that’s the case why worry about constitutional rights? You’re basically taking the stance that the government as it exists is not legitimate.

 

Is gun registration a slippery slope towards confiscation? As usual – for me – I reject slippery slope arguments. Every utterance or action is a potential slippery slope towards something. We can stop where desired.

 

And the playlist closes the blog with “Leaving Las Vegas”, by Sheryl Crow.

 

It’s Not Steve.

The A-Z has playlist finally run its course. It’s in random mode. Today’s blog begins with “Nikita” by Elton John playing in the background.

 

It’s been an interesting week as far as medical issues go. A well-meaning case of too much information kicked off a minor panic which brought with it all the usual ponderings on the meaning of life, the existence, or not, of an afterlife and all the other obvious ponderous ponderings that come when mortality seems more imminent than usual.

 

Blogs should be fun and interesting, and I’ll try, but this one might be doomed to a place in the muck before it begins. Faith is serious business, especially to believers. To non-believers it may even more serious as alternative possibilities are limited.

 

To begin: it seems strange that some doctor’s proclamation of pending mortality should have any real meaning. If, as an example, a medical professional states that you have two years to live, does that count as a guarantee of no less than 23 months? That’s actually a better guarantee than you had before walking into the office. Should you feel cheated if after only 8 months you’ve accidentally killed yourself in a culinary accident? Concerned about that pain in your chest? Why? You’ve got 15 months remaining.

 

At this point the playlist selection: “Because You’re Young” by David Bowie. No we’re not, read the blog.

 

Praise the Lord. Really? But what is the Lord’s role in all of this? (I’m working this section on the assumption that there is a Lord.) Is it right for one to pray for a cure? To ask for a special blessing? To make a pilgrimage to Lourdes? If there is a Lord isn’t the end desire to return to his or her presence? What is the correct response that one should have for “bad” news: Thank you God? Maybe something along the lines of: “Thank you God, I’m coming home. But to be clear, I was coming home eventually anyway, and I was thinking would a delay of a decade, or two, or three, or more really be so bad? There’s so much that I’ve yet to do. And now, of course, understanding that time is limited – well, a little more time to sort it all out would be grand.”

 

The current playlist selection jumps ahead to “(Just Like)Starting Over” by John Lennon. I sometimes wish, until I realize how lucky I am to be where I am.

 

Now what about non-believers? Well, they’re dealing with what is called, for them, bad luck. As in damn that’s some Bad Luck. (As in the previous section, where I assumed there was a Lord, this section also makes an assumption: There ain’t nothing. As to where I stand on this – I’m being cagey, at least for the moment). In the Lordless-universe-view the big end is basically no more traumatic than a simple lights-out moment. Still, until the lights are actually extinguished we sure as hell like to hold on. Why, hold on to all the pain, and suffering, and sweat if we’re so sure that it’s as painless as lights out. Our memory of the day after we’re gone will be no more significant than our current recollection of the morning of April 14^th 1813 – nothing. The problem may be that while we meander towards that lights-out moment we do have a consciousness that’s at work saying things like, “Damn it, I really do like it here. I like warmth, the sunshine and skin. I think I wanna stay on for a little while longer if you don’t mind.”

 

Arrgg ugly coincidences “but what if there are no coincidences?”. The next song on the random playlist: “In My Time of Dyin’” by Bob Dylan.

 

The tweeners is probably what most of really are: We don’t really believe in a god but we don’t want to say anything that might piss him off. So while the sun shines bright we play, but when the darkness falls we’re suddenly, and sometimes sheepishly, driven to pray. “Save our souls, save our lives, protect us from evil – unless by evil you mean money, whiskey or women – but mostly just save our lives.” The problem with this approach is that if there is a Lord it is just possible that we’ve discovered the only way to really piss him off, luke-warm hypocrisy. On the other hand if there is no Lord to piss off, it’s really just pathetic.

 

The playlist marches on: “The Nazz are Blue” by the Yardbirds. I have no idea what it means but I think it’s an end to the coincidences. It’s the wrong song. The right song for this moment is “The End” by The Beatles. “And in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make”.

 

It’s silly to obsess over what is ultimately inevitable. There was never a point where immortality was an earthly option. (Maybe in the time of Hercules, but that’s never really been confirmed.) As to the notion of an afterlife, I doubt there is a person who doesn’t wish it was so. I’m not about to argue all the talking points of various religions. Other websites do that, they’re usually well researched with proper footnotes, but almost universally slightly nasty. Maybe there is something in them that wishes they were wrong.

 

Final song in the totally random playlist: “Give Me Love(Give Me Peace on Earth)” by George Harrison. Does this mean that Steve Jobs is trying to provide a sign through iTunes? I doubt it. More likely it is simply me trying to ascribe meaning to a random series of songs where no meaning exists. In any event, in spite of what has been suggested by some of the articles I’ve read in the last year, and with no dis-respect, I don’t think it is Steve.

 

 

 

To Blog or Surrender to the Elements

Today’s blog starts with the A-Z playlist up to Bob Dylan singing “Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again”.

 

Some songs rekindle areas of the memory long that have been long dormant. “Stuck Inside of Mobile of with the Memphis Blues Again” is one such song. It’s not the lyrics; I don’t really know them. The chorus repeats the same inane words over and over again, and even though I DO know what those words are, I don’t know what they mean. But there is an exasperation and relentlessness in this song that is somehow infectious. Or maybe it’s that the song functions as a half-ass time machine My feet and, it seems, most of the rest of my body are stuck here in the 21^st century but there’s portion that does travel back in time, to some point in the 20^th century when such songs were our tokens – like that Obama or Romney sticker that forever defaces your car. Didn’t like “Stuck in Mobile…”? You probably voted for Nixon.

 

Appropriately enough the playlist, after running through “Stuck on You” by Elvis Presley and “Stumblin’In” by Suzie Quatro while I wrote the above paragraph progressed to “Subterranean Homesick Blues” by Bob Dylan just as I finish this section.

 

Back to the Beginning: There was point to today’s title. I’ve been – internally –debating this whole blogging thing. Just as when you’re learning to play the piano – or in my case the accordion – there is a time to do scales and there is a time to get of your butt and learn a song. I re-started this blog with the thought that as a writer who hasn’t written much in the last several years, I needed the exercise. I think I still do, but how much pomposity is one capable of?

 

Last week I tried to put down my profound thoughts on gay marriage. That failed so I tried to be analytical and look at the questions before the Supreme Court from a legal perspective. After several hundred words of technical brilliance I realized that I’m not a lawyer, and really not so concerned about what the Supreme Court says that I wanted to research legal precedence. So I deleted all my profundity and filled 500 or so words of blog with blubber. The truth is that I don’t have 500 words of opinion on the matter. For the record, my opinion is that people don’t choose sexual orientation any more than I chose brown eyes; equality for all –simple.

 

Which comes back again to the question of whether to blog or not to blog? What’s the point if not to pontificate? But if I don’t want to read my own pontificating why would anyone else? I considered creating a soap-blog, a continuing story, would that be interesting or draining and thereby unsustainable? This one is still a possibility. . . . as the playlist reaches “Suck on the Jugular” by the Rolling Stones.

 

Morbid thoughts: The correct answer – if ever asked the question, “Have you learned anything from your experience with cancer?” is, “Why of course. I’ve learned how valuable time can be, that it's not something to be taken for granted. I’ve learned to appreciate the here and now, not take things for granted, etc.” The problem is I don’t know how much of that, if any, is true.

 

Of course, any disease worthy of a Hallmark movie treatment will provide a slight slap in the face regarding the finite nature of our time on earth, but I think the greater gift, or curse, of any such ailment might be the sometimes overwhelming feeling of WTF. For instance, I’d like to publish again –something, likely short stories. There may not be any money in it, but it’s enjoyable. But what difference would it make it I did or did not? The end is the same for everybody. No matter what the effort or quality of our output we eventually take a last breath and then re-enter the eco system. This may seem like a ridiculously narcissistic point of view, but it’s how I find myself thinking these days. I try to slap myself out of it by forcing myself to move forward: by writing this blog, by earning a BS in IT, by writing the great American novel, learning to play “Taking Care of Business” because my wife asked. Still, it is difficult to not slip back into the muck of despair. What difference does it all make? Maybe some. There is the chance that I could influence the people I know, who I live with, who I've raised, and, to resurrect a medieval term, whom I’ve sired. I’d like to think that I’ve been a positive influence in their lives. Maybe someday they might say to their children something like, , “If you want to be a great human being like your grandpa then you must. . .” but if the sentence actually begins, “Unless you want to be a loser like your grandpa. . .” – I guess that would be useful also.

 

The playlist has now reached “Sugar Baby” by Bob Dylan. Bob Dylan sure does seem to have a lot of songs that begin with the letter “S”.

 

I cheated. I edited the above section. The playlist is now at “Summer’s Almost Gone” by the Doors. Guess the Doors never informed Paul McCartney the summer was almost gone as the next song on the list was “Summer’s Day Song.”