Got to get me some

Echo has a new best friend. It's a used dryer sheet. They're inseparable. She really hasn't shown this kind of attachment before. And she's no spring chicken, she'll be 7 in February so perhaps a midlife crisis thing. Regardless she is not the best smelling dog so it's actually a more than acceptable choice on her part.
Countless best friends have been lost over time, those of the inanimate and animate kind. I used to have a blanket, Jack has a hippo of which he is still very fond. Gus could not go anywhere without Thomas, and for Jake there was always a "guy". Just something to take along that represents safe. Griffin always has something but in his case it's dirty and ragged and if you touch it you've joined in the on the obsessive fun of playing with him nonstop until we have to shoot him with a tranquilizer dart.

And eyes that cried

Jack and I went to a wake yesterday. I explained to him some of the cultural differences in dealing with death and the process of grieving in different religions. He was quiet as we drove away and I thought pensive and introspective so I left him alone for a bit. Then as his brother, whom had waited in the car because he was "not ready" to see a dead body, and I were walking with him to breakfast, he said, "How do did they fit the plates around the body in the old days when it was laid out on the table?" So much for a literal interpretation of the things that come out of my mouth. I suggested perhaps they had Hors D'oeuvres.

I'm in a state

The industrial revolution transformed the way in which people interact. By this, the isolation factor has, in my mind played a huge part in why there is less discord and assemblage. Not an accident me thinks. Knowing that there is profit involved in addition to keeping the masses from sharing their grief is enough motivation to maintain the level of disjunction. Of course, this was stepped up with the internet and becomes blatantly apparent as one looks at the 16 terminals at the library. People sitting and communicating with others but not with any actual individual body or person in attendance.
I tend to interact when I'm going about my shit. Most of the time, people think you are nuts if you try to engage them in even light merry conversation, with the exception of holiday times where they can suspend the everydayness for the big come shot of the year. Now that it's over, there's that new year anticipation and then the darkness.

And if I should fall

I'm damaged. It may have been obvious from the get go or perhaps no one noticed without me pointing it out, but the view from inside is skewed and often vextatious. So, what I've come to terms with is that I've had these demons, a over critical yet distant mother, a overworked and distant dad, relationships with men and other friends who were disinclined to be receptive to my personality, needs, naivete, whatever; and it's not going to go away. It, being the flawed and repetitive nature of the beast that is within, the one that takes a megaphone and reminds me of the deficiencies that take up the majority of my phyche ; and then, I get my period and everything is okay again.

On that road

I have to explain myself to people, all the while my inside voice is screaming. They will never understand what you are saying and what you are going through with the kid that you have labeled the devil.
Jake had to get a physical for work today, so I took him, something I have vowed never to do again, take him anywhere that is. I realized if I did not, then he would never go to work and figured it was worth it. Not really. I had to stop at a work party, drop off gifts, pick up same, drop off food I made and eat some others had. Jake pretended he couldn't hear me when we got there, so I left him in the car. At the Doctor's office, she asked me if there were any issues I had with the boy. I said not physical but emotionally and behaviorally he was a nightmare. She suggested parenting classes, and this is when the voice in my head began it's rant. What more can I do when I choose not to; in other words, it doesn't matter what I learn, or how I learn to cope with his issues, they are his. Needless to say, it was a merry fucking day.

As I go running along your street

I wonder today, if anyone thinks of me. Not talking about Mom, Husband, kids, anyone whose face I am in. Nor, am I talking about old flames. I think of friends that have lost touch, and probably the origin of this thought is holidayish, but I think about people whom I haven't seen since college or even childhood and wonder if they ever come up with a thought regarding my relationship to their lives.

If there is much after here, I hope to find out if there is a Lock Ness monster, what really happened to JFK and if my old cronies wonder what the fuck ever happened to me.

That special offer

I'm horribly allergic to mango. Anaphylacticaly in fact. Early in October Eamon and I had the unusual privilege of going out and having some grub together. All the planets, children and bribes were lined up. So, we went to The Cheesecake Factory. And oh what a manufactured experience it was. We sat down and our server asked for our drink selection, because at 44 I'm a new recruit to the joys of caffeine addiction, I ordered iced tea. A few sips in, the tell tale your going to die in a minute hit with tingling lips and itching mouth. I flagged down the truss and asked her what was in the tea besides for the requisite "tea" She said, " oh it's a tropical mix" and I knew that could only mean some fun was due. Lucky for me and the CCF, I only had a small amount of the joyjuice, but I did find it kind of odd that they serve some weird shit and don't say anything until you get to page 578 addendum 62 of the menu. I was okay but I was concerned in the "universal" sense that they might want to let people know about the "exotic"aspect of their bevs.

I let a manager know and then sent an email to corporate, who had the same manager call me and apologize and offer me a gift card which I declined but was overruled by said manager's insistence of sending one right out to me. So, when it didn't arrive by late November, I thought perhaps she had meant for me to come in and get it, so I called not wanting to appear ungrateful and remiss while my gift card waited patiently, with my name on it at the hostess stand, but no, she had sent it, and apparently it was lost in the mail, so they would send me another fed-ex and that would be there tomorrow. and this was in November. So, it arrived today with a tracking date of being mailed yesterday. YES.

Could everyone agree

It's the time of year for catching up, and I guess for getting behind in the basics, because there is this hectic need for the hunting and gathering of goods. I "caught up" with a good friend yesterday. He was clever because he came a few weeks before the onslaught of friends in from out of town.
There is a bar at which many of my old friends often end up gathering. It's one of the older bars in the city and in October the proprietor, Mitzi, died , she was 92 and she was born above the bar, worked there her entire life and entertained many a patron with stories of prohibition, visiting rock star antics and an inquisitive nature and enthusiasm that seemed misplaced in such a unsavory local.
There is always a buzz in the air for me during this time of year, it's when I can be ebullient without appearing too manic.

Happiness and cheer

When I was young Dolly Madison had another meaning to me besides for her place in history. I of course associated her with anything Charlie Brown, and I assume the home of Zingers had to be the sole sponsor of A Charlie Brown Christmas.
We missed the broadcast this year, so I brought home the DVD and watched it last night with Jack and Eamon, who deconstructed the program for us. Where to begin; it seems as though there is no resolution regarding the play that Charlie Brown was directing, as he and Linus left mid-rehearsal to go find a tree, and then there's the ADD element of the story where the characters kind of jump topic every few seconds. There was more, but I lost track as I was trying to place the genesis of my own depression and melancholy around the holidays, and there it was right next to me.

Let's hope it's a good one

A strange thing happened on the way to the holiday concert. Well no, actually it happened at the concert. Jack was singing and boy is he an emoter. Who knew. Anyway, the sixth graders sang, and I have to say they can sing well, there was no, I'm going to have to stifle an explosive laugh moment, something I have had in the past, especially with the early band concerts. So, they go through, and I'm reading off of the program four Christmas songs and then a onto the old favorite, "Two Horas for Hanukkah". It was a rousing foot stomping klezmerish moment. But before it could all begin, the choir director nodded her coiffed head at a student stage left, who left the stage and then returned after the song was over. Am I being a stickler here, or have countless multi-faith children sung their hearts out about Santa's sleigh, Jesus' birthday and ascending to a Christian heaven. I could easily be over reacting to something not very significant to the rest of the audience, however, it seemed somewhat meshuga to me.

A fantabulous night

People come to the library and confirm that the full moon actually has a pretty spectacular effect on behavior. Yesterday, someone came in yelling about a lost folder, told us we were all the "N"word and that she was going to call our collective boss, even though there were about a dozen people scurrying around to help her find her fucking folder.
These are the moments when I want nothing to do with the public. But, in the Inland Empire, Gus is acting wacko as well. There was an incident, and it was loud. The story is an old one. Food anxiety and it runs in my family. Gus is inflexible when it comes to choices, meat, potatoes and, I guess I'd have to add meat. So we went to this lovely small Japanese restaurant that unbenownst to me was in the process of a kitchen rehab and thusly had about 1/10th of what they usually offered on their menu. Gus' meltdown was epic and my ultra calm reaction was due to the beer I drank on an extremely empty stomach, perhaps the stars aligned for us, because it could have easily turned into a free for all

In the frosty air

There is no holiday spirit when there is stuff lying in piles on the floor of the store in which you are looking for festive stuff. What people are trying to achieve doesn't exist and I know that being somewhat new to Christmas. I describe it as the big yearly orgasm, lots of buildup and then a big burst and then get ready for the next one. Really what else is it than that.