50, Living In A Cruel World

Willie’s singing about a Cruel World and I am shaking my head ‘cuz today I am an angry 50 year-old man living in a cruel world.

Somewhere I hear dad’s voice saying life is tough all over and grandpa telling me not to let my temper get me in trouble which is why I am seated at my dining room table venting because I can’t go throw weights around the gym or punch holes in walls.

Already did the former and though I want to engage in the latter I won’t. It is a waste of money, time and energy.

Been there and done that and though I never expected to revisit certain places and spaces it appears that is not something I can control.

So I picture it as part of the spiral staircase of life, I am seeing some of this crap again but this time from higher up and further removed.

Doesn’t mean it is not irritating, difficult or challenging because it is but I don’t have to do things the same way and I won’t.

I am done.

So when I finish writing this I’ll go back to working on a different project and tomorrow some people will be engaged by my harder self.

And if it means I have to start tearing apart block or brick walls that is what I will do because the one thing that never leaves is the ability to use brute strength and force of will.

It is not elegant. It is not special or magical, but sometimes it is effective.

Do You Want This Deal?

There are a few people who have been fighting with me online about something I consider to be nonsense.

I didn’t expect things to go this way as I made what I thought was an innocuous comment and people took issue with it.

It went from one or two people disagreeing with me to five or six. I ignored most of them but I engaged with a few who complained that I was relentless and called me mean because I slammed them with links and comments.

They told me my response wasn’t proportional to their comment and I told them I didn’t care.

I didn’t dox them or call them at home or work. I responded solely online and I did so after they came looking for me.

Chances are they didn’t think anyone would reply as I did and I am certain they don’t understand it didn’t require much time or effort for me.

When you know how to search for information online and can drop links in with a two or three line explanation about why they are relevant it is simple to truth bomb them.

Very few people are interested or willing to do the reading that goes along with that but that serves me too because if you respond to what I post I’ll hammer you if it doesn’t address the facts in those links.

Call it the joy of responding to the self righteous and ignorant during a time in which you haven’t any patience and you no longer own a punching bag.

I told them I wasn’t particularly interested and they pushed anyway so I choose to engage.

Might be a waste of time.

Might be a waste of energy.

The people foaming at the mouth are unlikely to change their minds, but you never know about the lurkers.

You never know about the readers who never say anything.

Maybe they’ll think I have a point and side on the right side of history and not pretend an extra grand or two in their 401k is worth giving up their integrity.

But maybe not.

I am not the epitome of it or the guy you hold up as being the moral arbiter or right and wrong. I have red in my ledger and have lived in between the lines at times.

Still, I know who and what I am and that is enough for me.


Part of the reason for the fire and lightning emanating from me is tied into feeling like there is a lack of substance in a couple of areas.

It is a sense that I am being asked to go fight dragons with nothing other than my bare knuckles and being graded upon whether I get burned in the process.

Crazy J isn’t afraid of such odds or unwilling to take on whomever and whatever comes but he doesn’t like it very much anymore.

I am not old, but I am old enough to be tired and to know when I am being used as cannon fodder.

Old enough to recognize when people try to manipulate me into taking a beating and that irks me. I don’t need to show how tough I am or prove a damn thing to anyone.

You can like me, love me or hate me and unless you are in a very small group I won’t care.

What I can’t figure out is how the hell I am having some of these conversations again and I am racking my brain to make sure I don’t hold any responsibility for this.

That’s probably what has me the most irritated, this sneaking suspicion that I missed something and that maybe I am culpable.

Nothing happens in a vacuum.

Hanging With Brother Pablo

I tell Brother Pablo I want his counsel and whisper a secret or two in his ear.

He tells me it is a cruel world but there is hope. He smiles, whispers in Spanish and waits for me.

“Quiero que sepas
una cosa.

Si de pronto
me olvidas
no me busques,
que ya te habré olvidado.”

I nod my head and tell him I must go to find the key to open the hidden kingdom or to ride under the blackest night until I reach the end of all things.

“What is you search for?”

“An ech0 long since forgotten but suddenly remembered.”

“Will it answer your question?”

“I won’t know unless I find it.”

“And if you don’t?”

“I’ll see you on the other side.”

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