Joshua Wilner

A Writer Writes

Archives for December 2018

Wrestling With Pegasus

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Turn on the music, listen to Bradley sing and think about how my friend said he saw him at a local restaurant.

Don’t hear those kinds of stories in Texas and if I did I wonder if it would be said with the same matter-of-fact attitude.

It happens here and most of us don’t care but when you are talking about the last dozen movies you saw sometimes that is the kind of silliness you share/here.

A week ago I was given a new challenge to take on.

Someone had captured Pegasus and looped a rope around the steed’s neck and then asked me to keep him upon the ground.

You might ask yourself how I thought I could do so after all your average horse should be far stronger than a man who technically isn’t quite in a his physical prime anymore.

But if you accept the premise that the horse had wings you can also accept that said man might have hidden abilities or resources he can call upon.

Or if it suits you better you can change Pegasus into an angel and say that I was given the charge to wrestle with said angel.

Must You Play With Pablo

They ask if I have to play with Pablo and wonder if there isn’t another man whose words I can share. I nod my head and offer a slew of others and then spend a few moments picking apart Marlowe’s Passionate Shepherd.

The Shepherds’ Swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.

This section here might be the keystone of an arch, an unspoken question about promises that once were binding but are not any longer.

One could move from the words upon the page to other music and offer it as a supplement to the unspoken question or suggest it is a possible placeholder to positions possibly posed at some point in the future.

You could look upon such a thing as an unveiling of a true desire/idea or just a sparkling object whose flash in the dark corner catches your eye…perhaps.

Maybe if I ever had occasion to have spoken with Jimmy Webb I would have asked him a question about this particular piece to gather more insight as to what he was going for…maybe.

If you want the most honest answer I can give I will say I hear the singing in the wires and that I know I can be heard too.

I’ll say that I know there is a general sense of relief that comes when you discover the ache that never seemed to disappear has made like Houdini and disappeared.

Is it because of Ibuprofen, destiny or the countless hours of stretching for Yoga?

Maybe yes to all or maybe no.

Smarter men than I have tried to answer such a question. I do not ask for answers, I just accept the relief for now and continue to wrestle with the angel.

A Different Way Of Doing Things

On the verge of the new year there are several things I know for certain and many more questions I cannot answer nor predict the answers to.

So now I hold myself to doing some things differently than in the past. A new approach with the idea that they will present a superior ending to what has taken place in the past.

A push for the kind of naked honesty that led to the pristine palaces that provide purpose and understanding at a level most can’t get to.

Perhaps that sounds like authentic frontier gibberish to some but I know it to be part of a reality people wish they could get to.

Not all can.

I have, I am and I hope to maintain.

Some fires burn bright and the best thing you can do is enjoy, appreciate and live in the moment because you know not what the future holds.

Submit, accept and celebrate.

See The Love That Is Sleeping

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I wasn’t sure what direction to take this post or even how to start it and then this song came on and I was inspired.

The funny thing is that I had thought to open with this one instead and had plenty to say but the muse refused to roll that way so it made sense to follow.

And since you asked I also considered using this one but obviously went a different direction. Special note given to this one too.

See The Love That Is Sleeping

Two different movie clips float through my head, filling it with ideas for stories and how some tales are evergreen because they are part of that tired cliche, the human condition.

My oldest turned 18 today.

He was a little out of sorts and unexpectedly grumpy until I realized what was going on.

This was the first birthday without his grandfather and it hurt. I looked at him and said I miss my dad and that he would be pissed off if his grandson spent his birthday angry at the world.

He smiled at me and I smiled back.

I drove us to the restaurant we were going to hold his birthday celebration at and told him a couple of stories about grandpa and added how hard it was for me yesterday.

Because yesterday I spent more time going through my dad’s stuff and it set me off a bit.

Tried on a bunch of his dress shirts and looked at some suit jackets and discovered that I have become broader and thicket in the shoulders/back than dad was.

Given all of the weightlifting I have been doing it makes sense, but it startled me because who was bigger and broader than my father, certainly not me.

****

I walked into my son’s room before he woke and stared at the scruffy face and tried to pick out the baby that was. Looked at the boy and shook my head because he is so damn close to me in size now.

It was impossible not to remember my own 18th birthday and how I measured myself against my father, hands, feet and height.

Heard dad call out from the ether and answer unspoken questions including how he wasn’t certain what to say and wished that his father were around because he would know the right words.

It made me smile and I wondered if my grandfather would say his father would know best.

That was when the fifth generation looked up at me and asked why I was standing there because I had broken the cardinal rule of entering without knocking.

I understand this well because it is/was one of mine.

We spoke about many things and I told him to not paint himself into a corner he couldn’t get out of because I knew one day he would want to move from that space.

“Dad, I am not you. I do things differently.”

“Yes, you do, but I know a few things about you and about life. You don’t have to believe or accept it all, but recognize I am not as stupid as it sometimes may appear.


A Familiar Scent & Touch

Some scents are burned into our nostrils and memories forever but whether it is chemical, electrical or coincidental I cannot say.

What I know is there are the few that hit me like lightning and that when they do it feels like an old fashioned telephone line we built as children.

One tin can is against my air and the line stretches to another tin can against another ear.

A third party operator isn’t required to make the connection and if one were to get involved it would only cause static on the line.

What was once garbled and unclear becomes the opposite and information flows freely, like a river that was once damned but has now been set free.

****

Spent a chunk of the evening dealing with a sour stomach and thinking about the boy whose birthday it is and the man who isn’t.

When I visited his final resting place I sat next to the disk that marks his space and filled him in on current events and talked about future plans, dreams and ideas.

The wind became so oppressive it became uncomfortable to sit and I told dad that I would take any more wind as acceptance and or approval of what I have set out to do.

Told him about what I want to end and what I want to start.

Said I had learned enough from him to know how little control we have of it all and that I would do my best to sail my ship clear of the rocks.

Running With The Moon

“I am running with the moon old man. I am shedding all the fetters and restrictions and following my gut. Can’t say if it is into the fire or into the sea, just that I choose not to limit myself to a path that no longer serves a purpose.”

Two days from now I’ll be back in Texas and going to a follow up appointment with one doc and setting up an appointment with a different one.

Been thinking again about the people who are a part of our lives and the places they occupy. Some sit in seats they no longer deserve to hold and others clearly are better candidates.

Some may say there is no rhyme or reason for such decisions because they want to base decisions upon clearly defined metrics but not me.

It is the gut test and nothing more.

“Am I willing to die for you? Are you important enough to me to make me want to give you time? Do I believe you reciprocate or are you one of those people where the rules don’t matter?”

If I have to think hard about the places and spaces you fill they may not long exist because I just know.

Epilogue

The greatest gifts you can receive is to be understood by another, if not others.

It’s a gift that usually but not always includes acceptance and one that sometimes offer something else.

That something else is the reflection of who you are in the eyes of another and it allows you to help see and consider your true self.

There is value and merit in such a thing, scary though it may be.

Some Promises Aren’t Binding

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There are a 198 questions running through my mind and probably 982,000 more lying just beneath the surface that I want to ask but won’t…at least not today.

I am too busy reminding myself that I have failed to follow one promise and a voice inside my head shouting that it just doesn’t matter.

“Follow your gut. Don’t be stupid, heart leads head because fortune favors the bold and head leads heart means fear of failure wins.

Forward, always forward. Retreat is destruction, hope and optimism lay ahead.”

There is the usual mix of music in my head and the usual contradictions between them all which only makes me smile and then gnash my teeth.

The man in the mirror and I debate the question of which promises are binding and which are not. We dance around the topic feinting in and out, each looking for a way to parry and then thrust.

But no killing blow comes and the contest is set aside for a time to be determined later.


Walk The Line…Fool

The cemetery is beautiful and if it wasn’t for a wind that wished to prove itself equal to those of a hurricane I might still sit besides my father’s grave.

I stare at the place I believe his casket to be and remember dumping shovel after shovel of dirt upon it.

“You know dad, I made sure we buried you because it was the last gift I could give you before you were truly placed out of reach.”

I tell him about all that it is going on with mom, the grandkids and the rest of us and then ask if he could do something about the wind.

“Not very hospitable of you dad, I came a long way to see you.”

He doesn’t answer and I tell him about a secret or two and some wishes asking for his assistance in making them come true.

“I don’t really expect your help and unless you can prove you’re around I can’t say I am certain there is anything after this joint. I like the idea of it, but there are lots of reasons not to believe.  If you prove otherwise it would be a big help.”

The silence continues.

*****

Moments later I sit in the back seat of the car and think about all that I just said. It is funny to me how closed lipped I can be with so many and yet find myself blabbing away with others as if there is no reason to be more circumspect in what I say.

It is so easy to be misunderstood and yet sometimes you push on ahead because you know you get it about someone and they get it about you.

Impossible to predict or explain you just roll with it and accept because there is no reason to fight the river.

“Walk the line…fool.”

Hello Mr. Toad

That rascal, the crazy amphibian took control 0f the wheel a long while back and has done his usual half-ass job of driving with his passenger’s safety and comfort in mind.

There are so many questions remaining and not a single one of the most important ones can be answered because the only way to determine the who, what, where, why and how is to go through the experience.

You can whisper into the dark,”will you catch me or at least help me stand again if I fall” but you won’t know if it is a yes or no unless you try.

Later in the day I am told that I am far too close to the stereotypical man who doesn’t share his thoughts or feelings.

“You don’t expose what is going on inside. It is impossible to get beyond the wall and that is not a good thing.”

I tell them I have a handle on what is good and what isn’t.

“I am an expert at building walls and pretty good at tearing them down.”

It is not the kind of answer that provides comfort and I hear about it.

*****

I tilt the seat back and look out at a dark sky and think about what it means to fall.

Jumped off of a cliff not long ago and figured I would learn how to fly or accept a painful fall. That has been one of the big themes of 2018, learning how to fly.

Midnight comes and goes and I sing along with the cover, not sure of what, if anything, makes sense anymore.

The places and spaces that offer comfort are changing and so are the people.

“I could be even more direct and more honest, but not yet, not yet.”

The reflection says nothing in response and neither do I.

Be Cool

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I walked into the meeting having promised myself I would be the example of calm, cool and collected.

There wasn’t going to be much talking on my part because I was going to sit back, listen and learn. Silence was going to be a useful tool and a friend to me.

Not because I wanted to play games but I was uncertain of the framework and circumstances suggested caution would be wise.

“Be cool brother, say little and listen.”

Except I walked in and found myself feeling flustered and out of sorts and I couldn’t figure out why. I had no expectations, hopes yes, but expectations no.

For a brief moment I wondered if something had leaked out of me on the way in because I was so off kilter it felt like I was sitting at an angle.

And then something clicked and it felt like I could breathe again. I don’t know if I can put my finger on the how or why of it, I can only say something changed.

It was like a dislocated shoulder popped back into place and I felt like I could see more clearly than I had in years.

The Roar Of The Freight Train

As the fog lifted from my eyes and clarity pushed aside confusion I heard the roar of the gut instinct freight train start rolling inside my head.

It is an old familiar friend, that freight train. It is the one that sees opportunity and says to go for it and to not perseverate about potential consequences.

“You think too much about this you’ll suffer from paralysis of analysis. Got to take action and not risk missing out because you let fear fool you into doing nothing.”

That inner voice made sense, but I heard another suggesting a more cautious approach. “Freight trains that run off of the tracks cause great damage. Better to not overtax the engineer by pushing too hard. Be more like the tortoise than the hare. The little engine that could did better than the fool who tripped the switch and ran into the station wall.

*****

There isn’t enough time to write the way I want to and too much noise both externally and internally to compose as I need to.

Sometimes I just put the words on paper with reckless abandon and sometimes I am more cautious because I don’t want my intent to be misunderstood.

So the music plays and I try to follow the tone I hear in my head.

Three hours the meeting went and at its conclusion I left feeling good about all that had been accomplished. Felt like I had said most of what I wanted to say and that it had been understood.

Laughed at myself at the failed attempt to be cool and decided it is better to have been my authentic self, no holds barred and full steam ahead…mostly.

Life is short and filled with contradictions, twists and turns with few clues as to what will or won’t happen.

Prognistication is a skill I haven’t yet mastered. I have learned that I have little to no control of most things and that the best I can do is roll with whatever comes.

There Are No Neruda Quotes Today

My buddy Pablo might be disappointed not to have been included here tonight. But I think he’ll forgive me for he would understand that constant interruption and general chaos prevents me from producing the way I wish to.

The racket is such that I am not certain this should even be published but I suspect I will do so in spite of my uncertainty about the quality.

Why?

Because I might choose to use this as a springboard for a longer, more coherent and smarter post.

Some of the material contained within has enough quality to merit further exploration and maybe even explanation. But we’ll stop here because flames have begun to shoot from my nostrils and lasers from my eyes.

Five more days, let the countdown start.

Echoes

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The weight of the load upon my back and shoulders alternates from feeling like all of the earth, moon and Jupiter combined to something far more comfortable.

Dad’s voice and face are ever present even if they are not part of the temporal boundaries of the ground I walk upon.

Yesterday marked five months or 21,900 minutes since he drew in his last breath and left us to chart our own courses without his daily guidance.

I am the only son and as such received words and a charge from him given to no other. I did so willing and gladly even if one can argue I was trained for such a moment.

Soon I will return to Los Angeles to spend time with family and when I do the echoes of my father’s voice and presence will join me as silent companions in the places we go.

It doesn’t feel real to me, this knowledge that he won’t be home to greet me and that I will go through some of his things without him.

There won’t be any “Do you think you want this, I don’t need/use it anymore.”

No comments from him saying not to waste money on more tools at Home Depot. “Josh, you know I have it. Come and get it, but make sure you bring it back. They’ll all be yours one day.”

One day came too soon.

Empty My Heart

Sometimes you sail through space with music that moves you and sets a tone that you can’t ignore.

And so it is for me, acknowledging that I live, love and grieve hard. There is an intensity that is off putting to some people because it is too much for them.

And then there are those who allow the waves to pass over and through them instinctively knowing that doing so is safe. Can’t explain the who, what or why of it, can only nod our heads in acceptance of such things.

Why is this so with some and not with other?

I make like Socrates and admit I know nothing except to follow my instinct and gut understanding some times it will lead me astray and sometimes it will lead me to exactly where I need to be,

And if it doesn’t lead me there, well then I shall draw circles around wherever I land making it appear that I have nailed a perfect Bullseye.

****

There was a moment with dad in the final days in which he could actively communicate with us in which he tried to help me.

A moment when the weight upon me had shifted and I felt it forcing me to my knees. I think about it often because during a moment when I should have been doing all I could to keep the gate from smashing down upon him he turned to help me.

I am haunted by it, forever grateful but haunted nonetheless because for that instant I could feel what was required of him to help me.

But he did.

I don’t remember if it was that day or the next when a hospice nurse asked me if I recognized how strong my father was.

“It doesn’t normally go like this. Everyone is different, but man, your father is strong.”

I nodded my head yes and made my way to the bedside where I promised dad it was ok to let go because I would do all I could to meet the obligations I had accepted from him.

Are We Ozymandias Or Are We Other?

I listened to a story today and tried not to squirm in my seat.

It had my complete interest and attention but a prostate no longer 25 years of age refuses to work with the same efficiency as it once did.

The days of drinking 44 ounces of fluid and waiting hours upon hours before needing relief are behind me, perhaps never to return.

My suitcase bears witness as well. There are items placed in it that may have reached optimal comfort but also look their age.

So as I prepare for the journey and plan out where I want to visit besides where I must I wonder about what lies ahead.

Will the green hills I envision still bear the marks of the forest fires and will other places once important still stand or will I discover that time and life has forced changes upon them.

Perhaps I have reached the halfway point of life and stand upon the precipice from which somethings go down in a fashion we’d rather they didn’t.

Perhaps not.

In the end I hope to be more like the man reading Shelley than his main character.

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

That Antsy Feeling

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I always get a little bit antsy before I fly or so it feels and has for a while. It hasn’t and wasn’t always like this but something changed a few years back and now I get this…feeling.

Got a day or two before I soar off into the hopefully friendly skies and that feeling I mentioned before is making its home inside a corner of my skull.

It is an unwelcome guest and I am working on evicting it but there are things afoot that distract me from my purpose and keep my focus flitting from here to there and there to here.

I haven’t yet determined with military precision the culprit or culprits and perhaps that is part of the issue. If you asked me to describe it I am not sure that I could in a way that those who don’t know me well understand.

The words don’t work and I am not used to it.

So I’ll just say my heart hurts and I’ll deal with it because I am a big boy.

Push The River

There are those who say we ought not to push the river because human hands alone are too weak and too frail to stop the river from running between our fingers.

I understand the truth of it but have upon occasion still tried to apply my will against the droplets knowing the collective will find a way to thwart my desires.

Sometimes I have set out with purpose to reframe my intent so that the river works with me and not me against it, but I am not always good about doing so.

This has been a year of unwanted and unsought education delivered against my wishes but delivered nonetheless.

At times I have struggled because I have been certain that if things would go a particular way the chips that fell would fall in a manner that reflected my wishes.

It is a lovely dream but a dream nonetheless and so I have found myself forced to accept limitations and though I try to reframe and or to adjust my perspective it hasn’t always been easy.

There has been no partner or other to lean upon so I planted my feet and did my best to stand in the water.

Some of you will call it hyperbole or suggest I am making silly comments but there are moments where I feel far older than my actual years.

Maybe that is part of why this resonates with me and maybe my nature to keep pushing forward will serve me as it has in the past because nothing lasts forever.

Change is all around us and always will be.

So I tell those who ask about the importance of stillness and sitting with what we feel as opposed to constantly searching for that which will mask it.

Maybe this change is growth and that which comes with are growing pains.

Call It a Little Bit Of Confusion

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There was a moment five years ago where I walked into a fire and discovered the fire extinguisher I picked up was bone dry.

It wasn’t the sort of discovery that makes you jump with joy but it did make me shout…more than once. No one came running to help and though I didn’t expect anyone to I had hoped to be mistaken about it.

Maybe that is tied into why I don’t ever expect anyone to save me from the flames or maybe it goes back decades earlier.

Can’t say for certain but I put that particular question into the box of ‘doesn’t matter’ because unless and until proven different this is how I operate.

Save yourself or drown.

Cue new music as I ponder some other questions that are of more importance to me.

Can I Solve The Equation?

I wasn’t a particularly good math student not because I couldn’t understand what I was taught but because I didn’t see the purpose in it and in those days if I didn’t see purpose I wasn’t good about putting much effort in.

But since I was good at figuring out how to get by I did enough to pass and then promptly forgot most of it. A thousand years later when the kids ask how I did I tell them I got an A in Algebra and ‘C’s in every thing else.

I failed a bunch of the tests that came in the classes that followed and got a bunch of ‘A’s too which I suppose is why I passed. Put my back up against it and I usually figure out how to do more than get by.

This baffles my daughter who has been a straight A student who doesn’t like her father telling her it is ok if she doesn’t get an ‘A.’

I always tell her I am proud of her pushing herself to do well but also say I don’t want her health to suffer as a result of driving too hard.

“Baby girl, no one remembers if you got an ‘A’ or had a 4.0. In the real world it is important to do good work but it is almost more important to know how to get along with other people.”

Since she is better at making friends than I am it is possible that I ought to not say anything, but I am dad. She also has seen me tell other parents that I don’t care who is in the top reading group or who got a higher SAT score as I find little to no meaning in such things.

****

The funny thing all these years later is I look back at some of the classes and think about how much better I could have done.

Sometimes I wonder if it is the benefit of life experience that makes me confident of my skills in those past courses and if maybe it has added confidence I didn’t have then.

Except in many ways I was far more confident and fearless then.

Still there are moments when I play around with taking a Calculus or some of other advanced math class to see how far I can push myself.

Can I solve the equation?

Probably.

But the bigger questions I ask are tied into other conversations in which I feel like I have gotten partial answers to important questions and face the issue of whether I want to press.

Press meaning confront the others and say I call bullshit on what I have or haven’t been told because I see the inconsistencies and partial truths.

Press meaning I spell out in no uncertain terms what has angered me and how I felt mistreated.

The funny part of that is in most cases I have let go of those people because I don’t have time to hang onto people who don’t treat me the way I want to be treated.

So I suppose if you are among the very few who don’t immediately get axed you ought to recognize you’re part of a select crew. 🙂

Wash It All Away

The ghosts have been visiting again and I haven’t tried to chase them away.

Instead I have welcomed them and offered them reign and room to rattle their chains and moan. I may be a fighter by nature and trade but at the moment I don’t have much extra bandwidth.

So let the surf race towards the shore and wipe out the footprints of the past year. Let go of what doesn’t serve and what doesn’t help us anymore.

Take these chains off and let freedom ring, I can figure out the equation if I just put my mind to it. I just know it, I can solve for X.

Is It A Concussion?

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My old man is/was famous for having a hard head both literally and figuratively so it stands to reason I might also have the same.

I never expected to be put to the task of proving it by getting hit with a steel bar, but I was and I suppose I did…prove it.

It was the lat pull par and it fell about 2.5 feet before it landed upon my head. One of the guys who saw it happened said he expected me to be knocked down and was surprised when I rubbed the top of my skull and turned.

The turn  came because I thought someone had hit me and I was trying to figure out who and why, especially as it was hard enough not to seem playful.

Given that none of the fellas were hanging at the gym with me I was especially perplexed by who would feel comfortable enough to smack me like that and mildly curious if some stranger had taken a swing.

Is It A Concussion?

Two hours later I am here listening to the Witchita Lineman having taken two Ibuprofen just in case I get a headache wondering is it a concussion?

I don’t really think so as I know who I am, where I am and can still make fun of Cleveland, or bad mouth liver and onions without effort.

Since I am not a doc and don’t play one on television I can’t tell you precisely what constitutes a concussion but I believe that any time you get smacked in the head you get concussed.

Let’s hope that I am correct and there is nothing more serious than a minor annoyance because I haven’t the patience nor bandwith for more shit.

Got plenty with kids, work and everything else which is to say I can handle whatever you throw at me but have no desire to engage in more nonsense.

I am ready for a break and given that I am about to start living the bachelor life again the timing for smoother waters is solid.

****

Maybe I 0ught to sing MacArthur Park with Richard Harris to tell you there was another moment where my father spoke using my voice and “you may think I am a fucking idiot but I would encourage you not say anything loud enough for me to think you had the audacity to utter such a thing.

It won’t end well and I won’t be the one who is upset.”

Confession: I would be upset and I am sure that my dad was when he had those moments with me, but I am not about to give that up right now.

I appreciate the testing of wills and like the arguments that were used to try to sway me because they were logically and factually based.

Ultimately they failed because parenting isn’t based solely upon such things and there is a certain amount of life experience that helps dictate and determine what is permissible or isn’t.

Still behind my anger and frustration with the nonsense there was a sense that one day sooner than I’d like these kids will stand on their own and take on the world.

Ultimately it is what we strive for them to do, but it takes some doing to get used to it.


Secrets And Dreams

Thought about writing a post called secrets and dreams instead of It’s More Than A Broken Dishwasher and The People We Value Or…Don’t but didn’t.

Thought about writing a letter and or picking up the phone to say other things to other people but didn’t do that.

The day will come and I’ll end my silence but unless I am approached I doubt it will happen soon because I am in no rush.

Got other things to tend to and other issues to address. If the gut doesn’t lie there is time and we’ll see the truth by and by.

Or not.