Joshua Wilner

A Writer Writes

Learning

69 Ways To Get Your Attention & One To Lose It

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Someone is digging through the archives at another joint and I reacquainted myself with words I once wrote upon paper. Parts and pieces of a past that reaches into the present and hints about a future still unseen.

So I sing along with the blind man and ask if it is possible to dislike this song and mull over whether it is fact or fiction. I suppose it all depends on connection and union and maybe even destiny.

Makes me think about that song we sang with the younger Dylan again and wonder if maybe there was a hint of a sign or maybe it was just indigestion.

Got a feeling that I am flying my own ‘copter through the foggy mountaintops and it gives me mixed feelings, ya know that surge of adrenaline that comes when you do things that make you feel alive alongside that soft voice of indecision.

That one inside where it takes some time to recognize it is getting progressively louder. You have to take a moment to listen and figure out if it is laughing or screaming.

Is it joy or is it fear.

The Uncertainty Of Aging

There is all sorts of crap going on with my body now and I haven’t figured out whether to blame it on age, illness or a combination of things.

Took a moment to stand in front of the mirror and was firmly horrified by what I saw, so was the 25 year-old that lives inside.

He screamed and cursed at us for letting things reach this point. I/we told him to stuff it for a moment and tried the shirt and pants test.

That is the one we use to confirm whether things have gone to hell or if  they are just on the verge. Both fit…mostly comfortable and we almost relaxed.

Told myself the way to fix things is to commit to doing five miles a day on the treadmill and to monitor our diet. The idea is/was solid but thus far we haven’t done more than three miles and have really been averaging closer to 2.5.

Some of it is because I feel these mystery aches and pains that don’t want to disappear with the same ease as they once did and some is because I am having trouble focusing.

This issue with focusing isn’t new, it has visited me in the past and has always been associated with loss. I expect it to go away but until it does I am going to have to fight with/through it.

Lifting weights doesn’t present any issues with focus, but the mystery aches show up more frequently and that is of some concern.

The good news is I feel my body respond to the lifting and the muscle memory of weightlifting past still embrace me. So I roll with the required changes that age brings but dispute their overall influence upon me.

Begone foul age demons, begone.

To me it is similar to the truck in the picture, with some effort it can be cleaned up and made to run again.

Building The Blueprint

Got EOBs from the neurologist, GI and PCP sitting to my right and a big bottle of water on my left.

A couple of weeks ago a salesman tried to convince me to buy their product by telling me it would make an immediate impact upon my health.

I told him that my grandfather’s PCP told me that grandpa should have died 10 years earlier than he did and that my father was supposed to have died a dozen times before he did.

“What does that mean Josh? Are you playing Roulette with your life?”

“It means I am the baddest motherfucker in the valley and that death knows not to fuck with me now. I am still too mean, too strong and far too nasty for that bony fraud. I’ll rip his right femur off and beat him silly with it.”

“You have a way with words, don’t you.”

“Some would say I have no way with words.”

“I’d like to help you.”

“Someone told me a long time ago they could take better care of me than anyone else. I mostly believed them, but I don’t believe you can help.”

The salesman went silent and I knew I had touched a nerve. It hadn’t been my intent but neither had I intended to let him break his promise of a very short conversation without mentioning it.

Guess I am older and crankier.

*****

Building a blueprint for the future has been challenging. I haven’t made many friends at all in Texas and sometimes wonder if staying in LA wouldn’t have been easier.

But the reality is that LA doesn’t hold anything for me right now.

It is somewhere to visit and somewhere that still contains good friends and family, but it is not where I want to lay my head right now.

Too much has happened and too much opportunity is here.

I don’t need many friends, never have and if I apply myself I am sure I can find my people here.

The thing is I haven’t been ready to, haven’t gotten to a place where I knew I wanted to stay in one spot and let seeds grow into something bigger.

It is coming though, I can fill the change in the wind and see things happening.

Maybe that is what has been holding me back or maybe it is something else.

Maybe we’ll talk ab0ut it and maybe we won’t.

Life is a mystery and a quest.

You Make Stupid People Look Smart

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When they ask when the crash began the answer will be something like it might have begun on July 23 or maybe it started days, weeks or months before.

They place too much significance on the start because the circumstances surrounding it cannot and will not be repeated because it would be impossible.

What they ought to focus on is the current situation and whether the impact of the crash will be brief of lasting.

So we put on the music and look at parts and pieces as we move forward from a strange present into an uncertain future.

 

You Make Stupid People Look Smart

The man says POTUS is a master negotiator wonders how I can roll my eyes, shrug my shoulders and make my displeasure known so easily.

“He is a master baiter, delusional devoted to whatever serves his cause.”

“Oh, so you are one of those.”

“Yeah, a free thinker who isn’t a sniveling sycophant who understands reason, logic and fact.”

“MAGA, MAGA. That makes you guys go crazy.”

“You make stupid people look smart. Won’t be all that long before your immoral monster finds a way to disappoint and you try to say you knew all along.”

“Name calling is all you liberals can do.”

“Should I all pull up Twitter and show you dear leader’s comments today, ‘horseface’ and ‘Crazy’ come to mind. Or maybe I should pull up the naked pictures of the foolish ‘First Lady’ and her meaningless campaign against bullying.

Nah, no point. He could kick you in the balls and you’d say thank you may I have another.”

****

I throw on some more music and try to fight past the irritation and the fear.

The irritation I understand as well as the anger but the fear throws me for a loop. Not sure where it comes from and every time I try to wrap my hands around it the specter evades my grip.

So I hunt for in the dark, wanting to run the other direction but anger pushes me forward to pursue it.

I am too old for this crap and not yet decrepit so I wish to act as a pure Taurus.

First we capture and study it and once we have its measure we lower our horns so that it can be gored and trampled.

Tick-tocking The Days Away

The doc says he clipped about four polyps and sent them off to be checked out but says not to worry.

“Everything looks pretty normal, but we won’t know until pathology officially clears them.”

I say thank you and go about my business. I have multiple concerns and worries but cancer isn’t one of them.

It knows better to mess with a younger Wilner because I can do what my father couldn’t…at least for now I can.

What I can’t stop considering is what happens if my lifespan matches his.

My overall genetic package is pretty solid, 75% of  my grandparents lived into their nineties and I exercise more than dad ever did.

There are plenty of reasons to feel confident and better medical technology isn’t one of the main reasons, not that it doesn’t play a part.

Still a soft and rational voice says sometimes lightning strikes and the unexpected happens.

What if I am down to my last 26 years?

I am in ok shape now pushing hard to move into good or even great.

That doesn’t provide a way to roll back the miles on the body or enable me to ignore the likelihood that my best physical years are behind me.

Nor does it provide a snapshot or foretelling of how close I can get to best again. It is possible I could get close enough to feel pretty good most of the time.

Regardless of this I find myself asking the very hard question of if I only have 26 years left how do I want to live them and what do I want to do.

Twenty-six years isn’t insignificant but neither does it feel like forever anymore.

Do I really want to fight with people who are willfully blind, ignorant and or stupid?

Should I Trust You?

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The clap of thunder made both the dog and I jump. Neither one of us expected it and since it sounded like the bolt hit next door I can only imagine what it did to the dog.

Seconds later I was shocked by the words I saw on screen.

“I am glad you had their back. I didn’t like what I saw.”

Shocked because the idea that I would do or say nothing was beyond foreign to me. If you are in that inner circle I will dance in the fire, run into traffic or take the bullet for you.

Granted I prefer to do none of those things as I don’t recover quite as fast as I once did. That is a hard truth to admit because although I am not particularly clumsy or graceful I am relatively bullet proof.

Or at least I used to be, there is reason to wonder.

Mom, should you read this please don’t worry about this. I am just venting.

These changes are particularly painful in a way I don’t expect you to relate to, but I am not ready to believe I can’t figure out a way to make this go my way.

Should I Trust You?

I was tempted to get another $7 dollar margarita tonight. Tempted to drop the mask and speak freely in a way I haven’t in quite some time but held back.

Figured I could play another few hands of poker and see what happens. Sometimes there is power in silence.

Maybe it is because of the music I heard in my head or maybe it is for some other inexplicable reason, I don’t know and in this case I don’t care.

****

I am halfway through Bob Woodward’s book Fear: Trump in the White House and I am dumbfounded by how big a mistake the country made putting this delusional conman into office.

Add a double dose of disappointed at how many sheep believe everything he says and how easily they allow themselves to be manipulated.

It is not just the manipulation that disappoints me but the enabling the groveling sycophants provide by refusing to hold him accountable.

“He is not presidential but he gets things done.”

When I ask what that means they tell me they like the economy and that we are a nation of laws.

“So in other words you accept immoral and indecent behavior because you think it is good for your wallet?”

They never answer that or make excuses.

When I ask them how much they have in the market they tell me how much their portfolio has grown.

“That is today. Do you have enough to pull out the profit? Can you capitalize on this now or do you have to let it sit? It might not look the same when you are ready to take it out and you will have given up decency for no financial return.”

Sometimes they tell me I am a bad guy and that I shouldn’t be self righteous and I say I am not.

“I have many flaws and have made many mistakes. I have even rationalized why I have crossed and blurred some lines and am perfectly comfortable with that. But I am not POTUS and I am not intentionally sowing chaos and trying to divide millions for my own gain.

****

“Should I trust you?”

I don’t say the words but I think them. I have a memory like an elephant for some things and I don’t forget.

Don’t forgive very easily either but I am working on both.

The list of those I have trouble staying angry with is short and if you are on that list, well I may ask the question but I always know the answer.

It is yes.

Doesn’t mean I will automatically do so or give in, but if the world is on fire and I need help I know where to go as do they.

I had a conversation about trust with a certain teenager not long ago and listened carefully to their concerns.

It wasn’t hard to follow because their train of thought on this matches my own. I understand the logic and conclusions but I have one giant advantage.

Life experience.

I have lived.

I know what it means to have my heart ripped apart and that it can repair itself. I know if I focus my energy in particular ways I can help manage the harder parts.

Can’t make time move any faster, but as long as you can manage the other part doesn’t matter because you know there is a destination.

Have a Beer With Me

I can’t decide if my desire to have a second beer is because the doc may want me to get aggressive about some changes or if it is because I want to rinse out the bad taste in my mouth from Woodward’s book.

Or maybe it is something different, maybe it is because I walked two miles and that cold Shiner in the fridge sounds refreshing and tasty.

There is a 25 year-old at the gym who wants to know how old guys like me met girls when you didn’t swipe right or left.

I smile and tell him I can show him.

“Hey miss, can I ask you a question?”

She smiles and says ok.

“I told my friend here that the next date he goes on he needs to make sure he asks a minimum of two serious questions about his date early in the evening. He says he doesn’t want to rely on out of date tips from an old man.

Would you be bothered if a guy asked you what you do for a living and 0r if you have a dream career?”

She laughed and told me that women still like having a real conversation as long as the guys aren’t creepy about it.

I thanked her and told my 25 year-old companion he wants to find the woman Neruda describes above.

“How do I know when I have find her?”

“I’d like to say you’ll know immediately, but you might not. You might not recognize who she really is and why for a host of reasons. But you might. Keep your eyes open and don’t let fear drive you.”

He asks me a few more questions and I tell him to go check out the following songs.

“Why these?”

“Wait, go listen to these songs as well. There is a story and a lesson.”

“Dude, are you going to give me 25 oldies to bore me with?”

“Yeah, I am. If you want 49 years of insight that is what you get. You should trust me here. It will serve you well. Lose the stupid lines and talk. If you can make her laugh and she thinks you know how to listen you’ll be ok.

It is not complicated.”

If only the rest of life seemed as simple to me. It is going to take some doing to pull our collective asses out of the mess we are in now.

Facebook Didn’t Make You Ignorant Or Stupid

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Johnny and I are pointing and clicking our way through Facebook and I am actively reminding myself this is a mistake.

“Tomorrow is dad’s birthday and you’re looking for trouble. He’d tell you not to waste your energy on this.”

I nod my head and mutter “but if I did engage he’d tell me to finish it.”

That’s only partially true, it is what he said about a fist fight. Been a long while since I enjoyed some fisticuffs with another.

Thoughts flit and flop around and I think about some people that need to be manhandled and then force that out of my head.

“Focus on your form, breathe.”

240 goes up and down and I play around with trying to shoot the moon. Maybe I can hit 300. Maybe I can push back the clock.

I look around but don’t see anyone who can spot me. I am already pissed off so this just frustrates me some more but I play it smart and don’t try pushing too hard…today.

Facebook Didn’t Make You Ignorant Or Stupid

I have noticed many of the people who haven’t lost a parent don’t understand how profound this is.

They don’t appreciate how it can make you feel like a teenager again or how shocking it can be. I look in the mirror and remind the reflection of how much life we have experienced. I say we are 49 and our oldest is going to turn 18 this year.

“Pull it together, you have come too far and done too much to fuck it up ‘cuz you feel sad. Call or write someone who understands.”

****

Johnny and I continue wandering and shaking our heads at the collective stupidity we see.

A woman tells me I have Trump Derangement Syndrome and I respond with a comment about how pathetic you have to be to use that line.

“I guess when you have no fact to support you and aren’t smart enough to discern what is or isn’t significant you go with simple and easy insults.”

A couple people who are friends of friends jump into the fray but I am not having it.

“Facebook didn’t make you ignorant or stupid, but it sure illuminated it.”

Someone tells me they want to kick my ass and a broad smile washes across my face. “I own you now. I have free rent inside your head.”

I keep that thought to myself and point-and-click my way elsewhere. There are no medals to be worn or trophies to be earned through this kind of nonsense.

But I will confess to having looked at the profile of the man who wished he could kick my ass. If he and I were ever to meet he better bring some help and or his health insurance card.

He’ll thank me later for beating the ugly out of him.

I don’t write any of these things on Facebook or share them with him, but I think them. That is enough to take the edge off.

It is a waste of energy but for the moment I am fumbling my way through this time and I figure as long as no action is taken no harm is done.

Telephone Line

There is a moment during the song where I think about calling but don’t.

I could and if I did I might share everything but then again maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe it would require a face-to-face.

Hard to say, everything is slightly off kilter now.

Waiting for these test is making me a bit crazy now. I want to know what I am looking at so that I can figure out if I have the right solutions in mind.

It is like trying to put a puzzle together when you are not certain you have the right pieces.

There is a general feeling of a lack of support that irks me too, but it is not clear if that is factual or just because of extenuating circumstances.

Could be both, could be neither and it could be some from column A and column B.

The lack of clarity makes me grumpier than normal. “Congratulations for sitting on the pole, try not to grease your ass before you climb up it again.”

****

There is a moment during the back and forth where I wonder how long it will take for life to feel normal again.

It has been a long time since I felt like I was situated and part of a community. I have been to a couple of shuls in Texas but haven’t connected with one yet.

Haven’t decided if it is because I haven’t given them a real shot yet or if it is because I have had so much on my plate it has been impossible to focus.

I lean towards the latter but wonder about the former.

Maybe I am comfortably numb or maybe the fire burns too bright for me to make quick decisions.

Caught By A Tooth

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Three of them came after me never guessing that after the Monday I had I welcomed the opportunity to unleash and unload.

It was before I expressed my displeasure with the inability of some people to give a proper hug and or do simple math but before I went to the gym.

That was good because I am a much younger Taurus than some Virgos but still old enough to need a refractory period after throwing iron around.

They told me they wanted armed volunteers in the high school and I said that was a bad idea.

“Why? Don’t you want to protect our children?”

“Yeah I want to keep them from getting shot by some amped up parent who hasn’t had the training to deal with real life situations.”

“They will have training. They’ll have their concealed weapon permit and some marksmanship ability.”

“To quote Mike Tyson, everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth. This is different. The first time a parent kills a kid by mistake we’ll have all sorts of fun, now won’t we.”

“That is not the case. The current situation isn’t working.”

“Unless I am mistaken there is empirical evidence that it has. That means we haven’t had any school shootings here.”

Caught By A Tooth

I am not as insouciant and blase about this as I may seem nor am I trying to jinx things, but I am not about to say ok to letting armed volunteers roam the school.

It would be nice if I could say that I am comfortable liability issues will keep this from ever being a reality but people continue to prove that stupidity is contagious.

Not only is Trump in office, but there are more than a few who believe the bullshit he shovels.

****

We’re a few days away from marking a full month since dad died.

While I am anxious to reach a place where his loss doesn’t feel like such a giant hole with the regularity in which I notice I am not so anxious for time to move at warp speed.

I suppose that illustrates the giant contradiction of life because the closer we remain to his death the closer we are to when he was still alive.

We cannot allow ourselves to become so enamored with the pain of his loss that we fail to let go of it and not because he wouldn’t like it but because we deserve better than that.

So here I sit thinking about a couple of bad situations I am dealing with and how these are things he would have been very good to talk with about.

They are situations he was particularly suited to offer information and advice on. It would have been right there in the Big O’s wheelhouse.

Had I the opportunity I would started off by telling him about the chunky peanut butter nonsense and how dentists don’t want you to eat it because that chunk of peanut might get caught by a tooth.

Depending on his mood he might have told me to stop with the nonsense and I might have asked if we was going to ground me if I didn’t.

“You hear that old man, I would still give you a hard time if you were here. Since you are not I have to find someone else to give a hard time to. Wonder who wants it.”

What Is Important

The lack of punctuation is intentional as I don’t know how I want that to read.

I haven’t cut my hair or shaved in 30 days.

That is intentional too.

I am desperate to cut my hair and trim my beard so I don’t look like a crazy almost middle aged man.

That is not supposed to happen until at least 30 days have gone by but I am starting to feel a real itch to get it done.

Is a haircut and beard trim important?

Depends. I can make a case for it either way.

Are the situations I am dealing with important?

Depends. I can make a case either way for those too, but the fact is they are probably more important now than the other.

The problemis I am exhausted and I don’t want to dedicate energy to those things, especially since they probably don’t offer much room for me to influence them.

Except if I do nothing they respond the way a ship with a bad anchor does. It may pull loose and the current may slam it into the shore.

Though I am absolutely certain that I am right about knowing some things this is one area in which I lack complete confidence.

If I don’t try to push things along I might regret not doing it and that offers enough reason to consider trying to find energy.

And if not energy, advice.

I thought about writing some more. Thought about where this blogging started and how it grew from a whim to much more.

Thought about those who have been along for the ride to help motivate me.

Thought about a lot of things.

Still thinking, but I need to walk away from the computer and take care of some of other stuff. Need to stretch and read.

Need to breathe.

What If I Refuse To Say Kaddish

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Can’t decide if I ought to send the stragglers to read What’s Up Doc or Things You Don’t Understand.

They tell me there are stages of grief but I am not one to go in order or afraid to skip back and forth so I am in the two weeks ago I buried my dad and am enraged stage.

Got music playing cuz I am trying to chill out but am thinking about going back to the gym because a double work out when you are pushing 50 ought to be interesting.

I put 225 up for the first time since I returned and bared my teeth because it is the first workout I have had that almost felt normal.

The first that didn’t feel like the constant exhaustion was going to prevent me from getting the adrenaline surge I jonesed so badly for.

Almost was that guy who grunts and yells, but I restrained myself.

Got up off of the bench after my final set and started to breathe again because I tore down that wall that had been in front of me.

And then I had this thought, what if I refuse to say Kaddish?

Stick Your Hand In The Fire

I put my hand in the fire and held it there for as long as I could tolerate it and when I could do so no longer I jumped in.

Mom will tell you when I was quite young I sometimes got angry enough to slam my head against the floor and pain being the great teacher taught me…nothing.

I slammed my head against the floor again.

That doesn’t speak very well of me does it.

Doesn’t demonstrate great wisdom or intelligence but if I was trying to spin this yarn into silver lining I would say it does demonstrate strength, tenacity and fortitude.

Not to mention a high tolerance for pain.

But none of that takes away the stupid side of it.

However it might be the reason why I am not smarter than Einstein, Tesla, Spinoza and Maimonides ‘cuz that kind of pounding has to suck out a couple of brain cells.

****

Thoughts and ideas about a million different things flow through my head and there is this faint memory of a discussion with my father about saying Kaddish.

I haven’t been able to figure out if it comes from a dream or a real discussion we had 40 plus years ago about the death of my great-grandfather.

Can’t figure out if I suggested refusing to say Kaddish would bring people back and keep them from going wherever it is we go, assuming we go anywhere.

It is easy to picture us on our way to Builder’s Emporium to go pick up tools or supplies for whatever project we were going to work on.

“Let’s take a ride Josh.”

I’d jump at those and try not to get too squirrely when dad would decide to spend more time checking out the multiple things that caught his fancy there.

I can hear his explanation and picture him talking to me in much more direct terms now.

“You can refuse to say it but it won’t bring me or anyone back. The body is a shell, the neshama is gone.”

I was a bit cruder when someone asked if I was going to stay angry with people who didn’t offer any sort of condolence.

“Dad isn’t going to jump out of the ground and say ‘I AM BACK!’ Doesn’t matter what they do or don’t do. The days of his walking with us here are over.”

The Words We Don’t Share

Got my headphones on and more music flowing through my ears.

The resumption of normalcy feels both good and awkward. Some of the well meaning folks said things they thought would comfort but just irritated me instead.

I mostly know where my head is at and what I am trying to accomplish but still have my questions and doubts.

Some of the responses and questions to what I write have made me wonder how well I communicate and question whether people think I have laid everything I think/feel upon these pages.

The words we don’t share here are meaningful, significant and of great importance. They are missing puzzle pieces that provide more insight int0 where the entirety of my head is at.

Those missing pieces are intentional. I am unfiltered and willing to say quite a bit but that doesn’t mean I need to or will do so in this venue.

There are boundaries I won’t cross and things I won’t share with just anyone and that is as it should be.

If you need to know chances are you do or you don’t because you haven’t asked and I haven’t volunteered.

I recognize that sounds like a contradiction but that is what it means to be human. We like to think we are rational and logical in our thoughts/actions but oftentimes we aren’t and that is ok.

It is part of what makes people interesting.

Things You Don’t Understand

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I told a boy who doesn’t like to hug me that I won’t make him but to remember these things are finite and there will come a day when all opportunities are gone.

It happened not long after he watched me manhandle some heavy crap with relative ease. I caught him watching in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time but I didn’t point it out.

There wasn’t any reason to make him self conscious and given recent circumstances I am hyper aware of such things.

Today we had a late lunch at our local deli and he asked me if I expected grandpa to beat this one more time.

“Yeah, I knew better but I saw my father do stuff they said he couldn’t do over and over again. When I helped him change his shirt at the rehab facility I felt the strength in his arms.

People will say I am romanticizing things, but I am telling you he had enough arm strength to have held me down if he wanted to. I could have freed myself, but I would have had to work hard at it.

When I felt that in his arms I figured we just needed to get his legs back and we’d get him back for a little bit longer.”

Obviously that didn’t happen.

I am still surprised he didn’t pull himself up into an upright position because I was certain that was going to happen one last time.

Things You Don’t Understand

I told that son of mine about the doctor and how some people have yelled at me for not getting checked out the way they think I ought to.

“You know I would take on everyone and everything in this area for your sister. You know I would go through the wall if necessary. I may not be graceful but I am built for destruction and pretty good at tearing down walls.”

He nodded his head and I wondered what lay under the surface and what sort of memories were floating around there.

Neither one of have dad’s blue eyes but we have the same hands and feet. Our frames are close enough that we gave Wilner the younger a few of grandpa’s jackets.

Grandpa would have liked that, Wilner the younger certainly did and I did too.

He is so damn big now, this son of mine and so very smart.

I sat in the deli, looked around and thought again about how in our line of Wilner men we are down to just us two.

Dad and I didn’t really discuss that much or talk about whether there is any significance to it.

But sitting there I thought again about the things you don’t understand until your father is gone.

Don’t care if that sounds like hyperbole or if you think I am melodramatic because it doesn’t really click until you know there are no more days of listening to your dad snore.

‘Cuz when you know that you are closer to the end than the start you listen to it and realize it has been a constant your entire life and it is kind of soothing.

****

Some of the blurrier aspects of the past months are wearing off and I am seeing some things with more clarity.

I am thinking about the multiple goodbyes we said during the quick trips I took back home to see my folks.

Thinking about how dad surprised me once and pulled me close, kissed my cheek and said goodbye.

When I looked at his eyes I saw something I hadn’t seen before, a getting ready for things that could happen.

Every flight to and from was filled with a certain amount of concern about what news I would or wouldn’t hear upon landing.

July 11 was the last goodbye where I didn’t know what would happen.

It was at the rehab facility and it was just dad and I.

He was exhausted and slept most of the few hours I had before I had to race for the airport. I didn’t push him to stay awake, but when he was conscious I made a point to make the most of it.

It was the last time where he really hugged me back. The last time where he wasn’t in crazy amounts of pain or drugged.

So when he was awake he was present and found it easy to talk.

Less than a month later I sit here writing this trying not to feel like I should have found a way to spend more time with him.

It is not a surprise to me, I anticipated it. Dad and I even talked about it, but it doesn’t make it go away either.

Just something I’ll have to let run its course.

Some time this week or next I am going to go eat lunch or grab a beer at the Thirsty Lion. It strikes me as the kind of place dad would have liked.

I have heard good things about it and I like to think I got some of his skills at sniffing out a good restaurant.

****

Sitting here with the music on I am lost in thought about the last conversations he had about life and career.

The old man told me not to be so hard on myself and said I had figured things out better than I realized.

I wish he was here now so I could tell him about a couple of recent developments. Wish he was around so I could say you remember the story about XYZ?

You’ll appreciate how that turned out…but dad’s not here and though I can still tell him it is not the same.

I expect as time goes on there will be moments where I will be ok with that and moments where I won’t.

It is easy to hear him say ‘life isn’t fair’ or that ‘you can’t screw an old head on young shoulders’ and strange to think that now if the elder Wilner male needs to say it, I will be the one to do it.

Am I really that old?

Is this really happening?

Yeah, and yes it it did and is.

What’s Up Doc

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“We’re going to have to take your blood pressure again because technically I can’t pass you. Are you under any stress now? Put your ear buds in and take a few deep breaths.”

I nod my head, put on some tunes and a few moments later my BP has dropped significantly.

“Mr. Wilner, that is much better. I am not supposed to say anything, but your doctor may still think that is too high. You should make an appointment soon.”

Eight months later I haven’t been to see the doc yet but I have been told that I have traumatic arthritis in my right index finger.

For some reason every time I say that I want to make like Bill Murray and say I got that going for me, which is nice.

So gunga galunga to me.

One Hell Of a Piece

Sir Paul is singing and I am thinking my body Walt didn’t intend for me to apply the quote above to me.

That is ok, he is dead and I am not so he can’t complain.

Or maybe he can, maybe the ghost of Walt Whitman will come haunt me. That ought to be interesting and good for my attempts at writing poetry.

So if I hear a knocking at the door I’ll Let ‘Em In.

In the interim I am wondering when Major Tom stopped being able to hear me and what that felt like.

If I believe the man with the white hair the good major was/is fearless and responsible for making sure his job was safe.

Got no reason not to believe it so I shall and I do but it doesn’t change certain things.

The hole and deafening silence are ever present and I find myself repeatedly testing them to confirm nothing has changed.

I suppose what is funny is knowing the last line of defense is gone and never coming back. Funny in the sense that I imagine things in very physical terms so that last line of defense has been me for years except I always felt like if I stumbled there was one more person.

Didn’t need perfection, just had to live the as good as I once was…once philosophy.

*****

Certain pieces I have listened to a million times before make more sense than ever before and yet nothing does.

Castles in The Air reach out to me and I see myself walking through the old neighborhood, another seventies kid facing backwards in the family station wagon on another family road trip.

I feel words rustling under the surface of my mind knowing if I dear to set them free I’ll either come up with some awful mess of a post or something that brings tears to your eyes.

The question isn’t can I, but will I and the answer is I don’t know.

Don’t know what to say or do or if I care.

What’s Up Doc

I don’t have a doctor here yet but I have the name of one that I think I might try.

Don’t really want to want to walk in and hear the list of things they suggest I ought to stop doing or the list of things I ought to do.

Don’t want to do more than rely upon a belief in good genetics and an iron will to get me through whatever comes.

That is not a smart way of handling things nor what I advocate others do but when I wake up at 3 AM and walk around the house it feels like I have enough to be concerned about now.

Feels like I can tell life we’re taking a time out regarding my crap so I can focus on helping others.

Someone asked me if I feel like I got a knife in the back and I said yeah.

“They kicked me in the balls so hard they might be in my throat and then for good measure they punched me in the throat.

Under normal circumstances it would make me angry and as soon as I caught my breath I would do my best to return the favor ten fold.

But now, not so much.

Now I kind of feel like sitting in my recliner or lying down on the floor to stare at the ceiling.

The blur doesn’t feel so blurry and the weight is rolling out upon me.

Eventually I’ll shrug my shoulders and make Atlas wonder how I do it, but I am not quite there yet which is why I don’t really feel like seeing the doc.

Doesn’t mean I won’t or that I can’t now, but it does mean I’d like to wait before some white coat decides to shove a camera near my nether regions.

For now I’d prefer that camera see a sign that says never region but that probably won’t happen.

Screw This Club

A few have welcomed me to this club I never wanted to join and whose membership I don’t need.

Some have said I ought to just suck it up and not complain or cry because it is not what men do and I ignore them.

The man who is most responsible for teaching me what men do isn’t here to consult with so all they have is my interpretation of his words.

They go something like “go fuck yourself off or they can go fuck themselves” or a million other versions of such a line.

Hell, the other men on both sides of my line would say the same thing and cheer me on for doing so.

Or so my interpretation of their words go.

But the reality is when it comes to the elders of my line I am it. I am the eldest.

I know I keep saying and writing about it but it feels so strange to me.

I am like Ralph in The Greatest American Hero. I got the suit but no instructions on how to use it so I am trying not to fly into any walls.

Those crashes always hurt, but now the hurt takes longer to fade.