The Most Beautiful Way

My littlest guy is 2 today. (Note, word doesn’t recognize littlest as incorrect: sign o the times?)

And in the parlance of our times (Lewbowski reference) he is adorbs. Totes.

Fatherhood is so much harder than I thought it would be. I adored my father and I am wondering if some of that had to do with me being the 5^th of six kids and my father being so much more at ease with parenting after 4 kids. I know I am more at ease with just the second child.

So while it is challenging to the nth degree, the rewards are truly transcendent, even for this humanist.  But here is where it gets weird, because I am weird most likely; the rewarding feeling comes in the most mundane activities, and usually when I am not even involved.

I listened to my little guy play with star wars figurines the other morning: he was saying “luke” and “solo” and “darth” and I think he even said “I am your father” and some other syllables and I was just overcome with joy listening as I made lunches in the kitchen. I would occasionally pop in to watch and he would have them facing each other turning them to each other to talk and I would just smile from ear to ear reveling in his development and his imagination. It reminds me of when my first little guy made his second transition in daycare. I walked in to pick him up and saw him sitting in his little chair at the little table and just beamed with pride.

I understand these are not monumental accomplishments in their lives and I do not understand why these moments grab me but for some reason they stop me, put me in the moment and help me realize the beauty that is not only their lives but also mine and how they are intertwined in the most beautiful way. 

[clip coming soon]

Got Shorted, Big Time

Easter has come and gone…too much sugar has been ingested. Did I forget ham? I did. Ham too.

Watched The Big Short and anyone who says they get it, is lying. I was lying…down and fell asleep half-way in. This is not to say this is a bad movie; it is to say that I had been up since 4am and that the missus and I had some margs to kick off the old sat night. Recipe:

1 container Limeade into pitcher (near the ice cream aisle)

Retain limeade container and fill it with tequila, pour tequila into pitcher containing limeade

Pour 3 corona beers into pitcher containing limeade and tequila.

Drink. Drank. Drunk.

Bernie Sanders won three states and a bird’s heart.

Was able to play a little guitar this weekend in the a.m.s (mornings to the lay person) and think I found the last chord or at least some ideas for a song I should be bringing to Soundcloud in the very near future (6-8 weeks, 6 months tops). If A&M records calls, tell them I want the offer doubled and a retainer…for my teeth.

That’s it for now but don’t you go changing dear reader, to try to please me, we never could have come this far…ooh ooh oooh ooh ooh, mmm mmm mmm mmm…

The Hour of The Wolf

If you believe Steven Pinker, interpersonal violence has decreased. Well I believe Steven Pinker and I believe that we (all) live in a much more civil world than days past.

If you believe Steven Pinker, terrorism is a tactic, a tactic that never achieves its goals.

But isn’t it unnerving to watch these developments on the news at their current frequency? You see people at an airport and think that they were minding their business, getting ready to board or drinking coffee, and…then like they are inside a snow globe, the world is turned upside down and the ceiling starts falling amidst smoke and fumes and sirens that render them, and you, so very mindful of the fragility of it all.

But isn’t this somehow worse than mere mortality? It’s worse because it isn’t some mindful realization of mortality; it is the “hour of the wolf” where the real terror isn’t something constant and concrete like death…it is the instability, upheaval, at-any-second turbulence shaking you and your life with no grounding or toe hold.

Terrorism may not achieve its ultimate goals but what will become of us when the mundane becomes the equivalent of a mental carnival ride? 

Hump Day Haikus

Trust begets trust, yes?
And…mistrust begets mistrust
to trust or not trust

Prisoners must opt
in a dilemma like this
determinism

Have you gone crazy?
I have gone nowhere, but might
you see where mad went?

The ides of March, march
along and meander down
highways in your life

You will indeed die
which means you are, yes, lucky
for you are ALIVE!

Dare to dream, a dream
nightmarish, outlandish
ignored it can’t be

Breathe, deeply, in, out
simple, autonomic, breath
without which, essence

Bark less, wag more, at
ATTENTION! Tents, in, on, at
bumper sticker barks

Paradox, in, out
side the box, prepositions
matter, a lot,…man

Is to be fit a
king for all kings, aces high
humanity low

Than the depths of yore
your yore, not mine, your yore, filled
with violence, spite

Lebron james, akron
rust belt, polymer science
goodyear, for the roses

Wish I may, wish I
might. Put wishes in one hand
shit in the other

Breaker breaker one
nine, hellcat on the horn here
come on back, over

Just fuck it all, ALL!
save nothing, including me
especially me

Hate to break your heart
but you need open heart, surge
against a dying…

I hope you’re happy
or comfortably numb, to
existence, life,

Trust...Falls Of Man

I think it was Billy Joel who sang “It’s always been a matter of trust.”

I am reading E.O. Wilson’s The Meaning of Human Existence and was within the first few pages reminded of Daniel Quinn’s Ishmael.

In Daniel Quinn’s Ishmael pre-agricultural man lived at the mercy of the god(s); sometimes there was plenty sometimes there was drought and famine. But a post-agricultural man who can store a surplus of food is no longer at the mercy of the god(s).  (Cue ominous music)

Now this passage from E.O. Wilson’s The Meaning of Human Existence:

…the greatest moral dilemma since God stayed the hand of Abraham: how much to retrofit the human genotype. …We are about to abandon natural selection…in order to direct our own evolution by volitional selection-the process of redesigning our biology and human nature as we wish them to be. No longer will the prevalence of some genes over others be the result of environmental forces, most of which are beyond human control or even understanding. The genes and the prescribed traits can be what we choose. So – how about longer lives, enlarged memory, better vision, less aggressive behavior, superior athletic ability, pleasing body odor?

In Quinn’s case the running of the world can be left to the god(s) or man; In Wilson’s case the evolution of man can be left to natural selection (god(s)) or to man.

I get the feeling neither author trusts man with the responsibilities.

Do you?