And to match the go-kart

10

Time's gone inside out

My Brother in-law passed away last week, on the heels of Eamon's Dad, and his best friend's Mom.  A threefer if you will.
That's an awful lot of dying, especially if you think you have a handle on how it works, the process, adapting,  and then you don't. 
With that, comes some reckoning. 
I've not posted enough on this venue of late.  For some  writers, and I am a writer , that would be an opportunity or encouragement to do more.  Not here.  If anything, I have so much to say, yet it's not my first inclination to share it, analyze it or break it down.
The genesis of I'm a Teenage Mom, and subsequently Retooled,  was translating ideas and images into a neat package, to perhaps entertain, educate and or relate to.  Sometimes that worked, other times, it may have  caused some grief or annoyance to some people I know.
Either way, it's been ten years.  That's a long time to still want to make something.  And I do, so it's best to stop.

The foothold from which I can climb

What most astounds me of the modern world, is the singularity.  The absolute self interest without hesitation, and from all.  There is no age, gender or  social status contingency.
That, is what I find unusual.  The sheer determination regarding wants and needs, and short sighted perspective, shapes  virtually every experience.
Everyone is at war.  And it’s been externalized in such a specific way, that I am assured it is manufactured by a  synthetic sensibility , a desperation to win.

In such an early song

The Death of David Bowie, for so many of us, made for sad and  weepy days.
 I truly, deep down feel, that what it is, is that if David Bowie can die, then anyone can.
Not even trying to be silly.  The larger than life component is the truthsayer, and if nothing, or no one is larger, then it’s hopeless.  Is my take idiotic, or obvious?  I actually don’t know.  But there has to be something there, that strikes a connecting  chord in all of us, his fans, or admirers, even his detractors.  What remains, is that social media, when we are in mourning, shines.

Shiver stop shivering

Eamon and I were walking Hazel just at dusk last night.  I was up ahead, about fifteen feet, I looked back at them and said, “Be sure to always be alert when you are walking her.  Pay attention all the time because things happen in an instant.  We are never ready”
He looked at me, with that yeah, yeah, yeah, look, and said; “ I do, not to worry.”
Within  45 seconds, two rather large , loud and fast dogs were on them, snarling at Hazel, who took a defensive stance, but kept her head down, kind of, I’m guessing, knowing she was outnumbered.  Eamon kind of froze, I let him know to keep walking, and he did, spoke calmly, to Hazel, because, from where he was he could see they had shock collars on.  Though, they were walking close enough to the grass, that the dogs may have been able to get to them.
We looked at each other, once they were clear of the danger, and Eamon said something like, “women have magical powers.”  And I agreed, and took it one step further, kind of realizing that “witches” were probably women who had a keen sense, or an ability to detect things that they weren’t even aware of.
I don’t  know if I heard or smelled something on an unconscious level, I just know I knew it was coming.

I was unrecognizable to myself

The relationship I have had with my mom has been an uneasy one.  But, over the last few years, as she has slipped into Alzheimer’s I’ve just had to reconcile those feelings, and let that all go.
Yesterday, she called me back on my sister’s phone, whom I’d just been talking to.  I knew it was going to be her, as when I was hanging up from Beth, I heard my mom say, “who was that on the phone?”  As, there are still glimpses into her neurosis, and exaggerated invasive nature,  I kind of figured she was going to call to check if she was being told the truth, but by the time she called she had forgotten her  original motivation and just wanted to know who it was she was on the phone with.
I let her know it was me, she asked when I was coming home, to Philadelphia, and then when I asked her who she was with, she kind of reset  for a moment.
She is in the present or in the past, those places are her only reality, and when those moments get muddled, I picture my mom, her eyes scanning the horizon to find something to hold on to.

For I am involved

I didn’t know that my father-in-law’s death would wreck me, but it has.  It could be that it is the beginning of this part of middle age, the inevitable loss of parents, which up until last week, hadn't yet started.
The anticipation of what is to come, just getting through this last two weeks, it’s rough stuff.
There also apparently, has to be someone that makes things harder.  There must be a clause in the contract of life, stipulating, that one sibling or some relation is going to fuck with what you already think is your darkest hour, and just kick it up a notch.
Thanks.