Charming, Really

QUASI CONFESSION & JUST BECAUSE

There Was A Time When Judging, Ridiculing, Profiling Was Wholesome, Clean, Innocent Ignorant Fun: Goofing On Others For Cheap Guffaws … Childish Shits & Giggles! 

Of Course, That Sort Of Shitty Thing None Of Us Do (Any More).  Um Means Right?

We’ve Moved On From Uncomfortable-In-Our-Own-Skin Adolescence – Stopped Being Mean Girls And Cruel Boys In The School Yard – To The Precipice Of Near Adulthood, And When Feeling Nostalgic, Remind Ourselves Just How Rotten We May’ve Been Back Then.

You Know … Pointing Fingers.  Labelling.  Pretty Much, Elevating Ourselves By Stepping On Others In A Rush To The Front Of The Line.  Some Of Us Never Changed.  Or, Evolved Emotionally.  Explain Our Low EQ?  Clueless About Awareness.    

 

SOMEWHERE ON THE ROAD TO OBLIVION

We Matured, Grew Up … Cleaned Up Nicely From Our First And Second Acts … Stewed About In Pre-Perdition Anticipating Another Life Opportunity For A Do-Over … 

Inevitably, We Got All Righteous And Spiritually Hooked Up.  Flying High On Moral Uppity.  Eschewed Hypocrisy While Being … Hypocritical.  Isn’t That How The Big Ehtch Flows?

“Morphed Into Insufferable Dinks.  In A Different Way.  Impossibly, More Offensive With Indignance.  Hell, It Was Only Words.”

… True Adulthood Happened Only Because We Couldn’t Be Kids Anymore, And With It, We Ushered In The Realm Of Serious Prick-dom And Miserable Bitchery … Ripened Versions Of Cruel Boys And Mean Girls.

 

THIS PAST WEEK

Life – And Those Living It Close Enough To Me – Tested My Resolve …

Tried My Appetite For Witnessing And Swallowing Humanity Gone Fuckeroo.  Asked Myself – Am I Any Better? – After I Pinched Myself, I Kissed My Own Ass In Self-Adoration.  I Wasn’t Was I?  What Kind Of Maligned Answer Was That?

“To Cope Assuage My Innards Of Contemptuous Action / Non-Civil Reaction, I’ve Resumed A Favorite Blasphemous Pastime: Cussing Like A Whorified Sailor.  If You Haven’t Noticed Recently.”

In Part, Because It’s A Character Fault Disguised As A Natural Deflection, And A Softer, Kinder Approach To Setting Off Steam Rather Than Getting Angry About Stuff I Can’t Control.  Also, I Realized Just How Much I Enjoy Swearing.  

 

I DON’T WANT TO CONTROL ANYTHING

It Consumes Energy … In The Most Wasteful Manner.

Bio-Energy I’d Rather Focus On The Right Thing.  Whatever That Is These Days.  Not Being An Asshole To Others Is Pretty Much My Daily Mantra.  There Are Meh Days.  And, One’s Were I’m All Daisies, Lollipops, Dance Grooves And Happy Endings.  

“And, Nothing-At-All Days, Which Is Still Something.”

So, Keeping My Hands In My Pockets, Both Feet Planted On The Ground – My Bloody Senses – And Mitigating A Smile From A Twisted Smirk … Is About As Sweet A Deal As I Can Muster Most Days: My Slice Of Happy.

 

LAST WEEKEND

All Of Me … Was Depleted By A Trifecta Of Unnecessary, Nonsense And Disbelief … Wrapped In Urban Fuckery … 

I ‘Worked’ Saturday – My Third In A Row – My Choice.

Going Into The Office To Shuffle Papers.  Staring At Two Blank Monitors … Waiting For The Next Screen Saver Image To Fade In … Photos Of Places I’ve Never Been …  And, Possibly, At Least To My Myopic Mindset, Keep Fellow Staff – Good Folks – Engaged By Showing Support.

“Yes, I Have Better Things To Do In Life With My Time.  Like Blog.  And, Day Dream About Night Things …”

 

LATE SATURDAY AFTERNOON

I Nailed One For The Good Guys … The Lesser Of Anatomically-Correct Assholes …

“Moseyed My Pretty Suede Chukkas To The Asylum Currently Masquerading As A Grocery Store.”

For A Relatively Health Conscious Dude, I Dropped $98.46 On Groceries.  About My Average Weekly.  Either I Eat Too Much – Of Good Things And The Ocassional Tub Of Heavenly Hash Ice Cream – Or, Nutritious Food Is Really Over-Priced On My Scrub Of Paradise.

I Stocked Up On Nothing.  I Purchased Mostly What I Needed For Semi-Planned Meals For The Week.  Toiletries Were Limited To 8 Bars Of Soap Because I Was Down To My Last Chunk, Which I’d Pilfered From Last Year’s Trip To Tulum, Mexico.

 

ABOUT A QUARTER OF MY GROCERY BILL

Is Usurped On Preparing One Meal Every Week …

I’ll Clarify.

“It’s The Meal.  The One Meal I Have With My Sons.  Uno And Dewey.”

Yes, There Are Leftovers.  I’ll Pack In Resealable Plastic Containers For Them Before They Leave For Home.  It’s A Small Joy Of Fatherhood.  The Highlight Of My Week.  And, It’s The Saddest Night When I Watch Their Backs Walk Toward The Car.  They’re Home In Less Than 10 Minutes.  And, That’s It.

 

CROAKING BROKE

Since My Life Savings Went Deep South Into The Fiduciary Shitter Last Week As The Stock Market Took A Dive, And While I Promised I Wouldn’t Peek At My Portfolio On-Line, I Did.

“The Quick Math Revealed My Retirement Savings Plunged About 20% In A Day.”

The Upside: If I Hit Purgatory Before The Market Rebounds, Inheritance Tax On My Estate – Right – Will Be Substantially Less.

The Two Prime Benefactors – Uno And Dewey (Mio Ragazzi) – Will Have Enough To Cremate Me – And – Blow The Balance On Fast Cars, Faster Women And Slow Booze, Which Is Exactly What They’re Waiting To Do …

 

MY CHALKY, GRANULATED REMAINS

Are To Be Donated To A Local Animal Shelter … 

Ostensibly, As Organic, Nutrient-Rich Additives To Miss Kitty’s Artisanal Cat Litter.  This Is How I Want To Go.  The Binder Substance In Homage To Cat Defecation.  Being The Absorbent Filler For Finicky Felines To Drop Their Fecal Business On.  The Doo-Doo-Doo.  The Meow-Meow-Meow.

I Don’t Need My Ashes To Be Spread On Some Wind Swept Prairie Under A Golden Harvest Moon.  In Mercury-Contaminated Oceans Tainting Your Sushi Roll.  Or Spoiling Fresh Water Lakes.

 

MY THING

How I Want To Leave This Beautiful Place One Day …

Just As Hemingway Once Quipped:

“There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is superior to your former self.”

And, One Last Meal With The Boys.

 

Photo by Dominika Roseclay from Pexels