The Stories We Hear

Got those initial piano licks from Home Sweet Home filling my head while echoes of “you know last time he died on the table and they had to revive him floating through my mind.

Not panicked or letting an imagination that runs at light speed take me to the dark places with this particular ear worm but neither am I forgetting what I heard.

Just letting it sing its siren song in that private room only a few are allowed entry into while trying to ignore the what if.

So I do what I have been taught by the men who came before and put one foot in front of the other because forward is the direction we face.

Getting Happy Is Write/Right

Brother Stephen is spot on with his words not that he needs me to validate or support him.

I do this because it helps to clear the cobwebs and make sense of the shit that don’t look, smell, taste or feel right and there is a lot of that.

Got a bar with too many 45s stacked on either side and more being added to it and voice telling me to start walking.

Instinct pushes me to slowly inch around so that I heave this off of my shoulders and ideally drop it upon their toes.

Memories of my grandfather telling me he was going to punch. the Grim Reaper in the throat and kick him in the balls make me smile and make a mental note to always have a pair of steel toed boots on hand.

Better sneak up on me and mine Mr. Reaper ‘cuz we’re ready to kick your bony ass and use that scythe in ways you might not enjoy or appreciate.


Haven’t spent as much time sharing true stories and silly tales lately as I have just sharing silly blurbs because sometimes that is how you clear the aforementioned cobwebs.

So I sit back and think about the stories we hear, the stories we tell and those we share and remind myself to monitor the boundaries.

Some things aren’t for consumption by all and those who need to know will be told or can ask.

It’s A Long, Long Road

Sometimes the kids ask me how long it is going to take for certain things and I tell them it is a long, long road and that it will be end when it ends.

That is the kind of non-answer I hate and still hate but is applicable in some situations because there is no way to qualify or quantify it.

Things will end or change when they do and until then it is going to feel like a long, long road.

Except the funny thing is sometimes the thing that you thought was so long turns out not to have been and you realize it ended before you expected.

That can be a very good thing…if you didn’t enjoy what took place.

I had planned to insert Teddy Roosevelt’s quote about being prepared to take action and was going to comment that I have taken steps to be ready for certain things but my friend Emily caught my eye.

So I think I shall end this in a moment by saying how much I appreciate this quote and that I have no intention of stopping for death.

That motherfucker can come find me and if I can’t find a way to beat his bony butt, lock him up or send him away…well than he can go about his business without interference.

Or at least without fear that I’ll be able to stop him, no promises that I won’t be able to piss him off. I seem to be pretty damn good at that.

It is not necessarily a marketable skill, but perhaps it it can be monetized.

Excuse me while I go bang my head against the wall and try to find a life raft, the water is getting rough again.

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