WARNINGS FROM THE OTHER-SIDE

WARNINGS FROM THE OTHER-SIDE

  

Weekly blog and one of many in the new routine.  Changed horses in the middle of a river crossing, and forgot what I was doing, got swept up in the moment and swept away, as storm warning on the East Coast rattled my mind, as an earthquake on the west side of Vancouver Island, Canada, rattled my windows and scared the rats in the subway tunnel.   

Near my backyard, and even at 8.1 on the quake scale and then some after shocks, the damage was minimal.  And now they are saying, Hurricane Sandy and we handled it.  Damage.  Of course.  It was a big one.  But then we must remember, it is an election year, and if I have learned any one thing since Katrina and New Orleans being under water and the people stranded, I know.  When the media makes a fuss, they have been put up to it, and yes, we have a great propaganda machine and sophistication rises with the tide and the circumstances. 

And like I said, “It is an election year.”  When there is noise, be it white or otherwise, we know they are hiding something, or hedging their bets.  And here I am writing a blog about Warnings From The Other-side.  You might find it interesting.  Or not.

 

Not taking myself too seriously these days.  Had a flashback and storm warning and an earthquake tremor all in the same week.  Reminded me to count my blessings, and assume the position:  “No Speak.”  And this I did.  Writing a blog and writing a note, and it comes down to this:  Q time for….only the notes.   So my blog becomes an extended rant.  All the things I wanted to tell you on a personal level, need to wait.  But if I bundle it in a blog, who will know:  C-Note.  Blue Note.  Something to Note. 

And I wipe the tears from my eyes.  Lots of suffering and fear and now the clean-up.  Digging oneself out of the rubble and the damage.  Was there very much?  And this depends on who your source of information might be.  Election Year.  Spin is In.  Earth rotating on its axis, and it was a lot of rain and wind.  Storm came in.  Lights went out.  Happens all the time where I live. 

And nobody really makes a fuss.  Winter.  Storms.  Earthquake.  Always know we can rebuild.  And that is where they got my attention.  Storm Warnings.  Money and The Man.  Declare it bad.  Give some of the money from the public pot.  National or Local.  Buys votes.  Good deeds.  And so many things we could talk about, but like I said at the beginning.  Not taking myself too seriously these days. 

Storms come and go.  People be strong.  Wash away the event over a few beers.  Raise your glass and say, “Not too bad.  Car floated away.  But it was old.  Maybe the insurance will pay.  Maybe not.”  And I laugh.

 

Have my mind on other things.  Warnings From The Other-side.  Right Brain.  Left Brain.  Where is this coming from?  Fear and Tremors and Cold Sweat.  Flu season and winter ushers in a warning all its own.  Need a new car.  Just moved and no longer need to worry about the Mexican Drug Cartel, messing up my face, nor my day.  So far away.  Not really important to me. 

These Warnings From The Other-side.  Cat and Mouse.  Wait and See.  Hide and Seek.  All games I play during an election year.  Not going to make me change my game plan.  World Series for MLB baseball just completed.  Congratulations San Francisco Giants.  Clean Sweep.  Won the series in 4 games.  How good is that.  And baseball played in October.  Storm Warning.  Earth Quakes.  Elections.  What a shocker.  Yankees didn’t win.  Ok, they did NOT actually get to play in the World Series.  No hitting.  Story and players getting old.  Damn Yankees.

And yes.  Have other things on my mind.  Need to wash the dishes.  Stoke up the fire and pull up the hoodie, as I go outside to gather more wood.  Not on the east coast.  Didn’t experience Hurricane Sandy.  But if you take a minute and read between the lines, you will hear:  Warnings From The Other-Side.  My blog for today.  Tonight is Halloween and yes.  It could be scary.  Boo.  Boo. 

Boo Who?  Dark Night.

Election Year. 

Be careful where you walk. 

In the neighborhood.

Millions lost power.  Lights Out.

Kind of messy.  After the storm.

Its’ Halloween.  Protect your kids.

Dark Knight.

Vote for Me. 

And is my warning from the Other-side.

Check the candy before the kids eat too much.

Scary Times.  Election Year. 

Boo!!!   Who!!!

THE HIGH ROAD

THE HIGH ROAD

 

This is one of those conversations we are not having, but should.  In America, and just a few weeks or less before the World Series Baseball Game, will be played.  Without the New York Yankees, I feel as if something legendary is missing.  The Older Generation is all but gone.  I am next.  And came to the conclusion that I wanted to take the high road with you, but then I saw the frown and the waving finger and a cautionary sign, as you whispered in barely auditory verse, “Don’t Go There.”  

 

The effect was chilling.  Froze me in my tracks.  Now stalled, and wondering if I should abandon The High Road Approach.  Open for discussion, my blog for this day, The High Road.

Wonder what lies ahead for me.  Word has it the high road is strewn with stones and Stoners, and just taking this word stream in that direction, is a buzz killer. And wanted to find out, what that is about, but not really.  In my father’s day, every conversation took the High Road, and did not contain vulgarity and swearing.  No WTF and other insinuations that suggest, more questions than answer.  

Not saying that his generation had all the answers, what with dropping the big one to end World War II.  How moral was that, but he said, “Saved Lives.”  And I believed him.  Was involved.  Risked his life.  Back in the day, it was known, integrity is telling the truth.  And that is where I am today.  Silent Majority.  Silent and The Stone doesn’t say much.  Blows smoke, but mostly in the rear view mirror it is observed.  Faulty Valve.  Something more to get fixed, but with gas the price of cotton candy, around $6 a gallon.  Ok that is an exaggeration, but not by much.  Has me walking.  All By Myself.  

Choice and Freedom.  Where Do You Want To Be.  Name your destination.  High Road.  Direct route.  Standing Still.  Saying very little.  Stone Deaf.  And I wonder.  What lies ahead for me.

In the groove and trust the journey.  So to speak, I am not saying too much.  Has to do with backtracking and justifying my presence and lots of situations where somebody is talking, about the High Road and honesty and integrity.  And by the time I get it all sorted out, I realize.  They are telling me what I want to hear.  The Truth is, she said, “Don’t Go There.”  Is where we shake hands, separate and go it alone.  

 

No agreement and I like my way.  Stoner Heaven and The High Road.  Won’t know what to say until I get there, spend some head-time, and then come down to share with you, the magnificent view I had.  Or didn’t.  Eagle Scout eyes, slightly red.  Somewhat disappointed, but not really.  Found an alternative reality, doing okay so far.  Hypocrisy avoidance.  Being brutally honest in the sense that this is what its all about.  The conversation we are not having, but should.  

 

On shaky moral ground, but just waiting.  Out in the other Washington, where I find my walk and talk in high mountain tones, am taking that road where silence prevails, and waiting to see, if elections and the vote turns out to be, The High Road. 

On the ballot, legalizing marijuana.  Setting people free.  Giving them an Out of Jail Card in the game.  And I am thinking.  Wait and See.  And do what she does.  “Don’t Go There. On The High Road.”  And I wonder, what lies ahead for me, on this stoney path.  The Path Not Taken.

Not yet.  But do Vote.  

 

In the groove and trust the journey.  So to speak.

The High Road. 

And World Series Baseball, without the

New York Yankees.  How good is that?

And she said, “Don’t Go There.” 

And am lost.  Damn Yankees.  

 

ANORAK-WEARING GOOD GUY

ANORAK-WEARING GOOD GUY

I am in desperate need.  I need to write a blog.  That it pleases me or makes me content with the subject matter or the style points or gathers a comment field that amuses, matters little.  Once a week.  Twice a month.  More than three times a year.  My blogging habit needs some repair.  In keeping with that demand, I begin my topic for today:  Anorak-Wearing Good Guy. 

And require a proper reading before you say, “Enough Already.  Click.  Click.”  Using this device to distract and displace the hollow-point feeling I get when a gun is pointed in my direction, tis best to smile when you have no clue. What to Do?   Enough said about war and peace and living in an urban city.  We do the best we can.  In The City.  

 

And yes it is true; Comic Art and Presidential Debate, broad-casted on every network, and I find it best to not talk about it much.  Silent.  Stoic.  Take Your Medicine.  Be Democratic.  Buy something or wear a vote-for-me button,  if it makes you feel better.  And that’s when I notice The Anorak-Wearing Good Guy I have become.  Almost over-night.  IS:  Waiting for you.  Come Home. I need help.  1-2-3. 

 

Weather is on the cusp of being on the banned list.  Certain things we just don’t talk about.  Religion.  Same-Sex Marriage.  Feral Cats.  Try to maintain   daily walks.  Good Twist to another day that comes before the rain and snow of winter.  Urban North and was last seen coming out of a downtown Mall/Maul.  

 

Survival of the Fittest.  New James Bond movie now being released.  UK Spy Guy:  007.  And we ask, “Why are you telling me this?”  And truth is.  “Don’t Know.”  Just trying to write a blog and then post it.  After that will pick up velocity and escape into the night.  Hood Up.  Face Down.  Amazing what you can do, when retired. 

 

And I am Top Shelf.  A little bit to the right of center.  Is a good situation for me, looking down.  Hands in pocket.  Actor mode and myth dispelling at the moment.  Looking Good.  For my age.  Everything comes with a modifier and complex explanation, that is available on demand.  But generally I am what you see.  Anorak-Wearing Good Guy with a sense of humor. 

Slightly Whack, but then if you read my blogs, you will know:  Acquired Taste.  Not for everybody.  And having said that I am now full circle.  360 degrees of turn around and thought-bending material.  Here to write a blog, not mock you.  Just saying.  Word Count is important.  From Portland to Seattle, (in 4 words), and didn’t even get dirty. 

Family-Friendly.  James Bond.  Skyfall.  UK lovely. 

And that’s it.  War on Terror and they killed the wrong guy.  Plot and Story.  Not for me.  1965 Doctor No.  Jame Bond.  I liked.  2012 and James Bond is getting old.  And I am done with it.  This blog.  This mindset.  Life in Crime and Violence.  And so I bid  you, “Good Day.”  Walking Away.  Wearing-Anorak and flashing a harmless grin.  Walking-Away.  Until Tomorrow.

 

WHAT NOW SUPERMAN?

WHAT NOW SUPERMAN?

 

It is okay to ask:  “Where Did Time Go?”  “Did I Do Kay or O’-kay?”  And more to the point of fantasy and oblivion we ask, “What Now, Superman?”  Was Superman but a character out of comic book land, and is the grandson of the publisher of DC Comics a billionaire, because back then in a simpler time, Escapism was King?  Questions and am not here to find an answer.  Am part of the stream of consequence when all things go digital, and out west on the edge of a now unspoiled stream, sponsored by the environmentalist, I. M. Green, salmon frolic in the spray, sentimentalists like me lay on the bank with picnic basket and wine bottle in hand, counting Old Growth Trees and rejoicing in the fact, we have technology now.

 SAVE THE WORLD.  ( if you can.) 

Be My Super Hero. 

The powers then that made a nuclear bomb, and yes it was used in war and was dropped on warriors and people.  Not sure who died and who survived, but that generation is almost gone now.  A few survivors and they can give us stories and names, but more than that, if they speak to me, they might be able to complete my thought and theme for today, “What now, Superman?”

Not sure I am a fan of Small-ville.  I like my Super Heroes big.  Super Size it.  Obesity will come and go.  Am dying to try out the next diet fad.  We come and we go.  We are willing.  We are hostile.  Jimmy Olsen was Superman’s pal.  Newspaper junkie, and we all know.  Going Out Of Business. Local Paper – 10 Cents-Small-ville Journal 1954.   Where does time go?  How bad can it be, from age 15 to age 30. 

The Glory Years. 

And is part of history that Superman’s pal, Jimmy Olsen is/was an American comic book series character published by DC Comics from October 1954 until March 1974, spanning a total of 163 issues.  The original.  A Geek.  News Print.  Not digital.  And those who read this now, ask:  “What is he talking about?”  And that is why I say, “What now, Superman?”  Is there any money to be made.  Presidential and Vice-Presidential Debates.  What are they talking about?  Old People on stage.  Talking.

Sounds like my parents. 

Good question.  A Bunch of Malarkey.   Exposed for what it is.  Politics.  What does this have to do with me?  Just asking.

 

Caught in the middle.  Was alive in 1954 when Superman was a new creation.  Pulp Fiction.  More like comic book and pictures, and I was not yet bi-lingual.  Learning my A-B-C’s and basic math.  At the time it didn’t add up for me, I was little.  But now.  Omg!!!  The big question:  “What now, Superman?”

 Is like the world is going to pot.  Smoking and doing a line.  Things get hazy, but then we recover and go to work.  Live for the weekend and free time and more lines.  Lines of departure and looking for something to keep the buzz going.  Maybe.  Mostly I scratch my head.  When they write about me, I don’t want to be a fictional character, based on the need to escape and yes, young or old, we have to ask, “If I was the last man on earth,  “Would I Do Kay or O’-kay?” 

And I can see it clearly now.  Salmon and Trees.  Sunshine.  Technology.  No need to be the last man on earth.  Have the power.  Can do something to make it all better.  Not fictional character at all.  Am real.  Keeping it Real.  No, I won’t vote for you.  It’s a joke.  Maybe you are too. Who Knows?  Not I.  

In front of the people.  Presidential and Vice-Presidential Debate.  And I cover my head.  Duck for Cover.  Ask:  “What now, Superman?”  And then retreat into the shadows and prepare for winter.  Chilly.  November Elections in America.  But is our lot, so  Vote. 

And if you must find a choice outside of the establishment and people you saw talking malarkey on TV, well then.  Just vote and write in, in your own way, your man or woman or favorite Dawg,  who sees things as you do.  Just Vote.  Pencil in.  Digital Protocol.  Hello World Vote For Me.  I. M.  Green, no wait changed my name and mind.  Time waits for no one.  Getting old but still flying around.  Vote For Me.  I. M. Superman.  2012.

RED ROBE

THE RED ROBE

Our theme for today is Red Robe.  Something we can put on and wear, and feel good about in the morning.  And morning appearance can be an issue, especially now in this modern age, where many tasks of the routine are scheduled by your computer, including the lights and building heat and the coffee pot.  So the lights come on, its morning and it doesn’t matter that you might be retired like me, it’s a matter of keeping up appearances, doing the routine and feeling good, even when caught on camera. 

LEAVE YOUR WOLF OUTSIDE MY DOOR

leave your wolf outside my door and then come and sit a while

 

And this happens a lot.  Gear up.  Out to the front room, computers on and warmed up and in the corner an alert button is blinking.  Notification that you are not the first one up.  Around the world are friends and family, checking in and just being part of your daily routine.  Feeling good about the morning and starting and living through another day.  Part of the theme and my routine, to do certain things.  A Life in Morning.

 

For a while I have gone silent.  No Blogs.  Based on forced change and the small amount of change I had in my pocket, was a matter of resources and what was important in my day and routine and life.  Taught me a good lesson, which I will repeat here and now.  And that would be:  Change is Constant.  Friends come and go.  And most of all I learned:  I can live without my computer, but not without my computer-friends.  

 

And true to form this report includes the finding that blogging is a unique form of correspondence.  Not social networking.  And is not as popular for a society faced with time-based-decision-making and running short on gas and other resources, and so many spend their time on Face-Book and places similar.  The Blog Space might not be for you, and so we lose our connection.  Perhaps. Or on any given day, he appears.  And this is living proof that Blogging is part of my routine.  I write.  I post.  I am friendly. 

Seeing is evidence that he is back.  Daily or more than once a year, his blogs appear.  Makes me laugh.  I comment.  “Having a good time, are you?”  One thing leads to another.  Was talking to a friend on the computer just the other day.  The Subject came up.  Red Robe.  Talking about how we had been friends on the internet for a few years and it was missed when I stopped blogging.  Change of mind and habit and location.  Made an effort to keep in touch.  Is what friends do. 

But then I had to remind myself of how many had come and are now not to be found. “Internet Disappearing Act.”, is what I call it.  And we get use to it.   The services that once were free, need funding.  Cluttered with advertising and pop-ups, we just stop coming around.  Real Life and walk-to family and friends and neighbors and work demand our allegiance   True for me, so I project that this is true for others.  We make choices.  Blog.  No Blog.  Red Robe.  And appearance is important.  Be attractive.  Be friendly.  Just Be.

So that is what I was talking about with my friend just the other day.  Another year and still connected.  Calls for a celebration or some ritual to show this is a happy occasion.  And it was said.  “Christmas is coming.”  And this was not to imply I needed to send a present, nor money.  Was more like, “Well friend, maybe I should put my Red Robe on.  And then come online and visit.”  Christmas and Holidays and Celebration.  Has been a long time.  We are friends.

It was suggested just yesterday.  A Fresh Start.  No History.  But then here I am.  Suggesting I have a history with some one I met on the internet.  That we would dare to wear our Red Robe, and  plan a visit during the holidays.  A visual session and fun and chatter.  What people do when they are being holiday social. 

 

And I had to laugh.  “No History.” I said.  But now I am connecting with another.  Suggesting a chain of events and telling a story.  Having fun.  And why not.  The Theme is Red Robe.  And yes, appearance is important.  How you appear to me is part of the ritual that occurs.  When I appear.  I write.  I post.  I talk to you.  Why.  Because we are friends.  And I like it.  This blogger-connection.  Hence.  I am back.  Suggesting an adventure.  And a Red Robe, left to your imagination.  I say.  “Have a good day.  Missed you.”