2 Minutes. Go!

You didn't take a victory lap. You just packed that shit up and went home. It made me think. It made my heart pound a little bit. It impressed me, I guess you could say. I would have taken the lap. I would have signed the autographs. I would have listened to the women giggle. You didn't do any of that. 

There are times I can't even look at my own reflection in the mirror. So, any kind of adulation is terrifying, but delicious. I feast on it. I feel cheapened by it. 

I don't know if anyone else saw. Or noticed. I notice a lot of things. That's something I trained my brain to do. Most of the people were watching the lasers slice the fog machine. Most of them were lost. I wanted to be lost, but I have always been able to find myself, no matter how hard I try not to. 

The car was waiting. It didn't make any sense for me to dawdle, but I felt torn up and taped back together. I felt like someone had read my fortune and it had come true. I felt naked is the honest truth. Exposed, even if I was only exposed to myself. 

Maybe I will stay away for a while. Hole myself up. Get myself whole. Maybe all this has been a hallucination...it happens. Hell, it's happened to me. But I think it was real. 

Hallucinations don't hurt so bad. 

2 Minutes. Go!

I've been thinking back ... years back. Triumphs and tribulations. Trauma. Victories. They rattle around inside my brain now. I had some of them packed away real neat, locked up in a box with a lock I did not know the combination for. Now, the combination doesn't matter. I popped the lid for a second, but it was long enough. 

It's weird that you can feel shame for things you didn't do. For things that were done to you. That's something I'm wrestling with. It's hard to look back with clarity and see anger. Or hurt. Or hurt that turned to anger. There are some things I rarely talk about. Weirdly, I had nothing to do with them. 

There is joy in there, for sure. I remember when life was much simpler. Not just because of my age, but because the world was just plain simpler. Moved slower. No one had constant news (legit or not) pumped into their brains. Journalism was still a lofty idea, a calling. There were ethical considerations regardless of politics. No social media.

Now, we're selling ad space first, telling the truth second. If we get to the truth. Truth isn't very popular these days if we're being honest. If it doesn't have the sheen of entertainment, we aren't interested.

I read the other day that deer are starting to feed and move at night, despite predators, because the days are too hot. Got me thinking how our relationship with nature will change with Global warming. Mountain lions at Costco. Coyotes at the supermarket. If they're still around. 

But I'm not going down that evolving rabbit hole. Not today. Today, I will try to focus on the things that are the same. Books are still magic. Guitar still soothes me...sometimes it even makes me feel talented. I can still write. Sometimes, the writing seems OK, too. I still have friends. Some of them from the old days, which is amazing.

Mostly, I'm just realizing that nothing ever makes sense. Not really. You grow up thinking that the pieces will fall into place and someday you will understand what everyone else understands. Then, you start realizing that most people don't even know how gravity works. Most people are going through the day shit scared that people will catch them out. Expose them as morons. 

And I'm one of those people. Honestly. I mean, I know how gravity works, but I can't explain it all that well. What can I do? I can open my heart wide, sliced like from a knife. Tell you how words make me feel. I can put my own words together. Sometimes, I can convince a kid that books and thoughts are wonderful, and I will 100% take that. 

Maybe I'm a moron. I've been called worse. 

2 Minutes. Go!

The sound of birdsong complimented the sherbet sky. It was a cacophony of joy, a proclamation for the day. Inside, they were warm and safe. Outside, I had my thermos full of green tea and all day ahead of me. The only pressure was self-imposed. And the voice of imposition was stilled somewhat by the chill. 

It had been weeks since the old man had left. He didn't leave a note, but that was never his style. Folks said he was unreliable, but I knew he was as reliable as John Deere. He was just operating on his schedule. If you knew him, really knew him, his inclinations, then he was as dependable as a Casio.

And sure enough, I was just climbing into the truck when he pulled up. He was already dressed for fishing. As was I. I had been planning on this for months. 

We didn't talk much on the way to the stream. That wasn't our way. Talk was cheap was the way I felt about it, and I think he felt the same way. I listened to the rubber go from asphalt to rocks to mud. And then we were there. Drinking tea. Pretending we had come to fish.

The sun was high in the sky by the time we approached the water. 

2 Minutes. Go!

Oh, darling. I wish it wasn't so. I wish I could say that we could change things. That we could choose a path instead of having one chosen for us. Doesn't seem like that's the way it works, though. You just hitch yourself to the train and hold on. No one wants to know what you think about it. No one wants to hear your dreams. 

No one needs that kind of pressure. 

Everyone is doping their way through the day. Everyone's dope is different. Some people get into such high-minded dope that they lose touch. Some go low. Imagine the people that walk past you every day. Think about percentages. A good portion of those people are secret addicts. Some are cheating on their spouses. Some like to hurt people for fun. A few are probably child molesters. 

Statistics don't lie. 

You gotta be able to walk by all those people and still care. And that is the hard part because the burden you carry is heavy enough already. You're already carrying more than one person should have to carry. But you can take a little more. 

What's a little more baggage, really?

I swear, I wish I could tell you the things you want to hear. I wish I could smile and assure you that everything is going to be OK. But that would be fucking crazy, and I'm not that crazy. All I can say is that we'll meet what is coming together, and that has to be enough.