Dear Diary

My midlife crisis is, I guess, good for my physical health. I ran a 6:28 mile on Sunday and did a one and a half off the diving board. But still, the malaise of M's radiates and hums: Mid-life Marriage Mental Health Money all under the umbrella of Mortality...and the fact that I'm finite. I end. I am bound. Up in this world, with you people. What would I do without you though?

Change Change Change

 As in a lot of my dreams, I am lost. I am not in a hurry, but I am lost. What should be familiar is suddenly foreign. Time is wasted when lost. Hallways become miles and parking lots vast expanses. I see others and they seem to know where they are going but when I follow, I am still lost. 

And here I am, a half century into a life, lost. And here I am, he who should be awash in wisdom, lost in ignorance and doubt and fear...but not alone. No, I am a husband and a father to three young children. And my parents, perhaps lost souls as well, are not around to help, to guide me from the thickets into the light.

I also dreamt of women. Of the prettiest girls in High School. Thirty plus years removed from High School and the inferiority invades my dreams.

I dreamt of my parents. They were lost. Young and more robust...but lost. Unable to help. In need of help.

I used to believe that dreams are just electrochemical garbage; neural remains of the day that swirl about before their discard. Though many partners have awoken me as I screamed and hollered from the night terrors, I maintained my belief. 

I alone assign importance to things. Subjectivity rules. I deem what matters...to me. Maybe these dreams and these night terrors arise because I have not...mattered to me. Maybe deep down, the
bone-deep inferiority felt from a young age from an inescapable poverty, means that I don't matter to me. Maybe I don't value myself. Intellectually I can tell myself that everyone has worth, and value, and dignity. It is another thing to feel worthy and valuable and dignified. Another thing completely, distinctly. 

How do I matter to me? How do I change? How do I flip the script? How do I turn the tables on life and feel better? 

"I will walk along these hillsides in the summer 'neath the sunshine. I am feathered by the moonlight falling down on me..."

Change Change Change

Thanksgiving in October

Celebrated Thanksgiving in October. Thanks Rona. Nothing says Turkey and Mashed Taters like Monday off for Indigenous People's day. All snark aside, I'm thankful that my fam and I are healthy in what is shaping up to be a pretty shitty 2020. And weeeeee're back with the snark. I missed snark; after, let's count em', 20 words. Not bad for me.

I've missed you too blog, but I've been quarantined and parentined without enough booze-filled canteens. Plus I'm teaching three courses and taking one and blah blah blah, only 24 hours in a day. 

Can I tell you that running in the dark at 5am blows? I can. I did. It does. Don't do it. This Monday the entire run was in the dark. 

Which brings me to where I am in life, having recently celebrated a half century of life/existence: 

IN. THE. DARK.

But I know there's light. 

It's gotta be around here somewhere.

"Here boy! 

(whistle sound) 

Gotta be around here somewhere."

I'm alive enough to keep looking...and for that I'm thankful...in October.

Mid-Life Crisis Blues (in Bb)

Mid-Life Crisis Blues (in Bb)

[Riff a la hoochie koochie man]

Summer’s a comin’
drinkin’s on my mind
but these meddling kids
jail me every time

Ain’t got no friends
no social life
I’m in parent teacher meetins
and you know it ain’t right

This mid life crisis
gone be the death of me
Oh this mid life crisis
sure wish I was 33

Thought about a sports car
convertible cherry red
but opted for braces
and a brand new tool shed

Maybe get the band up
learn a few tunes
but soccer and swim and homework
got me singing the blues

This mid life crisis
gone be the death of me
Oh this mid life crisis
sure wish I was 23

[guitar solo a la Hendrix/Page/Vaughan/ lasting 23:13 utilizing the following pedals: voodoo lab proctavia, Morely uni-vibe, Dunlop wah-wah, DOD envelope filter]

Shot up to middle management
been there ever since
my career has stalled
enough to make my wife wince

Thinkin’ bout boostin my T
you know what I’m talkin about;)
or maybe some lipo
but instead I got the gout

This mid life crisis
gone be the death of me
Oh this mid life crisis
sure wish I was younger than me

Mid-lieeefe crisis baby
prostate exams
Mid-lieeefe crisis baby
three gallons of milk a week?
Mid-lieeefe crisis baby
kid needs new shoes
Mid-lieeefe crisis baby
fall asleep at 9
…

[fade out over wanking guitar solo lasting 8:07]

Angstberg©

Facebook makes me something like anxious. I hereby coin the term “angstberg”© for that huge mass of anxiety that swells in your stomach and brain whenever you log on to facebook and are overrun by videos of beatings and Obama and likes of lemon bars and lol’s for people waxing about their glorious hilarious lives and the zillion pics of kids with toys or men with beers and women with women and comments about comments about comments about those beatings and bars and lol and like like like and my god how cute is that! and my but it seems everyone is living their highlight reel life and here I am raising my voice at my little guy to get in the car because I know the traffic into Providence (providence means god's plan) is a daily nightmare and am I damaging him? and where’s my highlight reel and how come I haven’t been to Vietnam or Germany or Morocco and how come I’m not engaged in various DIY projects worthy of HGTV and 30 likes and 15 loves or why am I not vigorously researching the gun debate so my post is the bomb (see what I did there?) and what if what if what if… 

angstberg© 

you heard it here first.

My Malady Is Me

I’m sick of me

Tired of talentless

Done with “trying hard”

All spent on poor but proud 

Mediocrity rolled up in ho-hum

It’s make or break and I’m broke

In a dog eat dog world, I’m puppy chow

Regretting all this regret has me depressed

Can’t look when I’m undressed

Fuck! What’s a man to do?