The Whole Time

This section from Paul Bowels’ The Sheltering Sky hit me hard:

Death is always on the way, but the fact that you don’t know when it will arrive seems to take away from the finiteness of life. It’s that terrible precision that we hate so much. But because we don’t know, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times and a very small number, really. How many more time will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that so deeply a part of your being that you can’t conceive of your life without it. Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that.

Isn’t that just a terrible thought? That some memory you cherish, that fills you up when you recall it, when you know you need to recall it, will someday not? Irretrievable from lack of use.

To think of my parents, now passed, and beautiful memories of them once held, now, I don’t access.

And they are gone.

Others held to be sure but…not enough.

Growing up agnostic though I was, I used to think about how delightful it would be, when sitting before god upon my death, to watch the movie of my life. 

I want the movie of my life. So much. I need to know it is there. Not only my parents but my children? I won’t recall this moment where Juju did this and MisterMister did that?

Maybe I’m wrong.

Maybe before I go to hell, before judgement is passed on me, I’ll get to watch the movie of my life.

Watching that movie, knowing what is awaiting me, I’ll smile the whole fucking time.

Tom Is Tom

Seems I have a few minutes here so I thought I would rap at ya, a la Jim Anchower.

How’ve  you been?

I don’t care to be honest witch you. I’m just axing questions to be axing. Sorry, that was harsh; I’m being a dick. Maybe it is because I heard an idiot on the radio this morning say that, in reference to Tom Brady, “Tom is Tom” and every time I hear someone utter a tautology like this I want to choke myself, so, as you can imagine, this puts me on edge.

I shouldn’t take it out on you though; you have nothing to do with this idiot talking into a microphone.

Tell me, Mr. Man, is there a time when Tom Brady isn’t Tom Brady? Maybe when he was FDR?

You know what, I take it all back; maybe this guy isn’t an idiot. Maybe he knows a whole lot more about reincarnation that I do and maybe there was a time when Tom Brady wasn’t Tom Brady. Maybe this guy is tapped into the collective reincarnation stream and knows that at one point Tom Brady was, da da da!... 

Dom DeLuise.

You heard it here first, Tom Brady was Dom Deluise in a former life.

What’s that you say?

Their lives overlapped?

Overlapped schmoverlapped. What does the space-time continuum have to do with this?

Or as Tina Turner asked, What’s love got to do with it?

It has something to do with it right? What is the it we are talking about here?

What Did You Have For Dinner Last Night?

1. What did you have for dinner last night?
2. Syrup.
1. OMG! Please tell me you had chicken and waffles for dinner. Please tell me you think fried chicken with syrup is the greatest thing since waffles with syrup. Tell me now.
2. No, just syrup.
1. No pancakes?
2. Nope.
1. No crepes?
2. Nuh-uh.
1. French toast?
2. Not even american toast.
1. Just syrup?
2. Yep.
1. Bare naked syrup?
2. I had clothes on.

What Do You Think It Is Like To

sit across from a student who tells you he/she's always wanted to go to law school and you look at the transcript to see he/she failed US History II (while taking only four courses) and when you ask him/her to retake US History II to improve the GPA and he/she student doesn't he/she can pass the course?

And you wait. And the air becomes pregnant and dilated but still you wait...in silence.

Then you ask: "how are you going to get in and through law school if you can't pass US History II?"

And the dissonance bubbles up from nothingness and it is all your fault but you say "It is my job to make sure you make an informed decision."

Sure, the information is out there but, so are the tears.

The End of Optimism in Cleveland

I have given Terry Pluto a bit of a hard time over the last few years. I have read Terry from way back in the mid 80’s when he covered my Cavs.

You see Terry is, or was, blindly optimistic about the Browns. As I had a problem with here. And a little bit here I guess.  

But, low and behold, has Terry had enough of the Browns?

Cleveland Browns: Was it worth them coming back? -- Terry Pluto

Whoa!

Well if Terry is done with optimism for the Browns, then I am too. So goes Terry so goes I.

But let us not end there. Let us implore some others to beat back their "beloved" Browns optimism with sticks and baseball bats and lead batons and maces and other items that are really heavy that can get the job done. Because some folks just don’t know when to quit.

Take Mary Kay Cabot for instance – eternal optimist when it comes to the Browns. Mary is upset with me because I call her out about this but maybe I am a little snarky about it but she doesn’t realize that optimism is dangerous and doesn’t help the Browns. The Browns need reality, not optimism.

Along comes Kyle Kelly with this nonsense:

Really Kyle? One win in two seasons and you are going to talk about wild card. You shouldn’t be talking about playing cards.

So I

And Mary got upset.

Her right. Totes.

But my point for all, especially those who write about the Browns, is that objectivity is your friend, your very good friend who curbs your wishes and dreams and hopes of this and that and instead fills you with facts and stats that in and of themselves are all the context a Browns fan needs. After all we have endured 1 win in 32 games.

As my father used to say: put wishes in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up faster.

The Odd Couple

I read this article at NPR on #MeToo and this

"My working definition, basically, for forgiveness is that it no longer wishes ill or seeks revenges on the person who hurt us, and that it basically untethers us from them and enables us to have a different future from the past."

got me thinking about Heidegger and his idea that some lives are saturated with history. As I read this again, it isn't just the (possible new) future that becomes an option with forgiveness, the past, you know that thing they (das man) love to say can't be changed, CAN be changed...

with perspective. Perspective is nothing but a different way of looking, hearing, feeling, tasting, touching the world and her willingness to remain open to a different perspective opened the future door of forgiveness and closure and in one fell swoop she changed, it is possible, the past and the future.

Perspective requires bravery and openness; there is risk involved.

As much risk as being closed to it.

Whadya Have For Dinner Last Night?

Interlocutor: Whadya Have For Dinner Last Night?

Locutor: Bacon.

Interlocutor: Nice, who doesn't love a BLT. Let me just tell you I am not afraid of breakfast for dinner. I'll wreck some eggs after 5 and I'll even pancake it up after 6. I'm not uhscairt. Is that what you did, the ole breakfast for dinner?

Locutor: no, just bacon.

Interlocutor: What do you mean just bacon?

Locutor: just bacon.

Interlocutor: no eggs, no toast, no LT after the B? Just bacon? How many slices?

Locutor: how many slices are in a pack?

Interlocutor: you had an entire pack of bacon? Just sitting there buck naked on a plate with no accoutrements?!

Locutor: Twas in a bowl.