Got a little twisted because my beard doesn’t look right to mean it’s not the flecks of gray and white that are fighting for land.
It feels a little thin on the sides but I can’t decide if it’s because of how I trimmed it. It is making me crazy so I pulled out some old pictures and video.
Those show a much thicker beard but also a full head of hair.
Cocked my head to one side and then the other while I studied it and wondered if I am seeing things. Played around with shaving it all off and starting over and then wondered if I should let the hair on my head grow.
Thought about whether wearing a mask has had an impact or if testosterone has dropped. Had to head out to McKinney so I checked off the list of possibilities on the way there and back.
Could be something and it could be nothing.
Switched gears and thought about the blogs and the traffic coming through them. Some are virtual ghost towns and though I provide regular updates no one shows unless I encourage it.
Others plug along on their own and seemingly won’t die though I expect them to be close to it. Could be a quality issue or it could be a better and deeper online footprint.
Flipping around Sirius I came across Madonna singing Ray of Light and remembered the past.
A thousand years ago when the man child whose shoulders are almost as broad as my own was stroller bound he heard this playing in the mall and started dancing.
It was a common occurrence for him and it didn’t matter where he was because if he heard a song that caught his attention he’d start rocking that little body.
Kid has some rhythm but very few people have a clue because he doesn’t show that side very often.
He has a dry sense of humor and shares that more often though in an age of masks I think some of it is probably missed because.
If you don’t know him you won’t always be able to tell he is smiling behind the mask and the comment he made might sound as if he is serious.
****
Stood outside at a meeting, a large gap between myself and others and listened to someone share comments they had heard about me.
“How can you be so calm?”
“I know a few things.”
“What do you know?”
“I fought Dell, AT&T, a couple of insurance companies and a handful of other businesses on policy decisions and I won every time. Every time.”
“How does that relate?”
“I don’t commit easily, but if I put my eye on something it usually means I either see something or have a gut feeling that I am right. Don’t like giving free rent inside my head.”
“I am not sure I understand.”
“I don’t appreciate being poked and don’t just react or respond. But if I do, I commit. I can sustain the effort for quite some time. But very few things and people deserve it so I tune most out.”
“I thought you said you win every time.”
“Did I say that? I misspoke.”
“I still don’t know how this relates to what they said about you.”
“Should I be worried or concerned?”
“I wouldn’t want anyone talking about me.”
“Yeah, you probably wouldn’t.”
“Was your dad like this?”
“I don’t know what like this means but he wouldn’t have bothered to answer. He was smarter than me and would have walked away from time wasters.”
Kid tells me he found my blog with the funny stories and wants to know if I can tell him about it.
“It’s not all real and it’s not all fake.”
“What part is real and what part is fake.”
“Whatever you like is real and whatever you don’t is fake.”
“Seriously, are you going to try to get out of answering the question.”
“Don’t think I tried to get out. I didn’t bother to.”
“Why won’t you answer. What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing. I am not afraid.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“I shoveled the dirt on one of my closest friends and did the same at the grave of my father. I have lived through fear of answering the phone because of what I might hear with situations I’ll never discuss.
I have been so stressed I broke out in hives and or had pain so severe it doubled me over and I got back up.
Dislocated multiple fingers and tried to reset every one of them by myself. Failed every time, but if I had no options I could do it.
I have no fear of talking about my writing. It is not fear that stops me. I have no need nor interest…with you.”
“Is there anyone you’d talk about it with?”
“My number one fan and even then I might defer.”
“Who is your number one fan?”
“If you submit a self addressed stamped envelope to my fan club you can get a copy of the FAQs and an 8×10 glossy.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Where can I find that information?”
“It’s on the YoYos and Shmatas page under the 404 link.”
The damn bells went off a while back and they haven’t stopped ringing.
Some call it obsession, some call it addiction and some call it destiny. I call it life and ask others why they need labels.
When things simply are I do my best to accept them and let them be whatever it is they are.
Can’t say I am always good at it but when I hit my rhythm I am particularly effective. Been a bit harder lately and I sometimes wonder if I have lost a step.
Except every time I do I come across something that illustrates I really haven’t. Blame it on chaos and confusion creating the occasional haze and smokescreen.
Do any of these random thoughts have meaning or is 1,983 words of nonsense pushed out by someone with a double dose of insolence and insouciance.
Hell if I know. I am just tapping at the keyboard with the hope that something meaningful magically appears.
