Some Celebrations Are Quiet

I celebrated my 48th birthday by myself not because I chose to but because of circumstances. There wasn’t anyone around so I did something but I can’t remember what.

It was a quiet celebration and given how life can turn we can hope it is not one of the last.

If you ask me about the most recent New Years Eve, the one where we said goodbye to 2017 and hello to 2018 I hope I forget it.

It was among the worst I have ever experienced and I will speak no more about it.

Into The Breach Again

Some people read these words and ask for explanations I won’t provide because if they don’t understand what is upon the page they won’t understand my words in any other way.

You either hear and understand or you don’t and if you don’t I don’t have interest in helping you interpret what isn’t written in hieroglyphics.


I shouldn’t be as tired as I am now. Shouldn’t feel like I put in two weeks in two days but I do.

Some of it comes from standing for countless hours on concrete knowing that the 27 year-old version of me noticed sore feet and back from doing the same.

If I felt it then there is ample reason why I would feel it today.


Someone challenged me in a way that I felt was unfair and unreasonable because they don’t hold rank and haven’t proven themselves to merit such a thing.

The edge in my voice when I responded made it clear to me that it really is only two months since we said goodbye to dad.

It feels like a giant contradiction to say it feels like he we was here yesterday and has been gone forever.

Maybe I am walking through the equivalent of a fun house and instead of crazy mirrors showing me in 5D I feel it in terms of time.

The funny thing is I hear the old man telling me to remember most people won’t give a damn and even those who do will forget about it.

He is/was right.

Some of the guys told me to expect this and to not be surprised by it. I understand now what I didn’t before and I recognize how much more we spoke now that don’t at all.

Suck It Up

I have to go to Waco and I have to go to Tyler.

Some people hope to have me go the same day. They say suck it up and get it done and then ask me if I am going to ignore it and just do my thing.

“Get out of my way and good things will happen or stay where you are and watch me ignore you anyway.”

They ask if the bravado is an act and I shake my head. I am not pretending, posing or trying to be something I am not.

“What is your story? What are you trying to do? Where do you want to go?”

My antennae are up because I feel like I am being pumped for information by someone whose motivation is unclear to me.

“I am not good with politics and social interaction. Best to let me stumble around like a bull in a china shop knowing I’ll clean up the wreckage.”

Their head cocks to the side and I say I speak authentic frontier gibberish.

“You’re kind of funny.”

“Kind of,”  I repeat as I walk away.

Someone else walks up and says to be careful because I am getting sucked into women’s politics.

“I don’t know what that means or how to respond.”

“It means be careful.”

I nod my head and keep going. It is what I do.

Later on I am asked how I made a few things happen and I shrug my shoulders. “I asked a question.”

“Can you explain more?”

“Only if you pay me.”

The laughter provides cover for me to leave. Later on they’ll ask how I am so good at disappearing and I’ll laugh and say it is quite a trick for a 398 pound ninja.

“You don’t weigh anything close to 398 pounds.”

“Nope, not even close to 300.”

They laugh again and when they turn to say something to someone else I take two steps back and one to the left.

I am gone.

Not too shabby for a guy lumbers.

Walk Into The Water

A thousand years ago when swimming was a way of life and I spent as much time in the water as I did on shore I could hold my breath for many minutes.

It was long enough that sometimes people would get nervous.

I would walk into the water and disappear.

It was funny to a teenager.

Maybe it is not so funny now but I think about walking into the water to see if I can find what I left there.

It would take some of the extra weight I am required to carry and lighten the load. Back in the day I wouldn’t have wanted to do it because it was more important to show how strong I was.

Not now, not anymore.

Work smarter and not harder.

The thing is I find myself involved in cleaning up multiple messes I didn’t create and fighting to fix problems I didn’t cause.

There is no particular joy in any of this because I can’t look upon an experience and smile because I had a hell of a lot of fun riding the roller coaster that took me to this place.


“You haven’t said a word in an hour.”

I shrug my shoulders.

“Is there something wrong?”

I shake my head because if I shared my thoughts it wouldn’t matter. I wouldn’t be heard and I would barely be listened to.

I don’t require validation from them anyway, it is not my style.

Someone else chimes in, “Wilner doesn’t like asking for help. He just figures it out.”

It is partially true and partially not.

Some people can always hear you and when they choose to listen you know. Others try and never connect the dots.

16 Years

Sixteen or maybe it is seventeen years ago I stumbled upon a treasure chest on a deserted island.

For a long while I would visit the island and explore all it had to offer. It seemed like it could make a good place to live but because I was inexperienced I was unsure of how good it would be.

Even though it seemed to have all I wanted there were questions in my head about whether the treasure and island would last.

Some time passed and a storm hit.

It wiped out the bridges and for a while all I could do was look out at where the island sat and wonder if I ought to ignore it.

If one storm could wipe out the bridge maybe it didn’t make sense to rebuild. After all I could get there by boat and I did a few times.

While I sat and thought about it someone else built a bridge but the bridge destroyed the docks I used to use.

For a long while my anger and frustration made me want to just ignore the island. I didn’t need the extra aggravation.

One day I had a dream that I built a bridge and rediscovered all the island had to offer. When I woke there was a smile on my face and evidence that I had really enjoyed the dream.

For a few moments I lay in bed with my eyes closed trying to imprint the way I built that bridge to memory so that if I chose to try and recreate it in real life I could.

Some celebrations are silent.


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