on the outside

ON THE OUTSIDE

 

On The Outside Looking In, could easily be the name/title for this blog. Inspired by something I recently read in a blog.  “You are beautiful, inside and out.”  Out of context, I let these words give me hope and promise.   But turns out that wasn’t enough.   After looking around, hearing what others had to say, and still a fan of active involvement in life, I almost felt compelled to do something. 

The key word is ALMOST. 

Flashbacks of grandmother’s logic and advice drifting into the conversation I am having with myself.  Ghetto and war and people just working out an alternative solution, and I recall what Nana said.  “Do nothing all the time, and there will be no bread on the table come Saturday morning.”   Not sure if I am on the outside looking in, as this is a story and/or  an embedded behavioral trigger for me:

What if she was right?

 

On the outside, and when I say flashbacks, this is a cue/clue for knowing that he is no longer operating in the present moment.  And for those who are just getting to know Stoney Blogger, is best to know he is a retired, older man, living out west where he looks out on a sea of water and mountains, so tall he can no longer climb them in one day.  Difficult to admit he has gotten old, and has limitations now.  But if you read

 

Between-the-lines, and see enough of the blogs he has written, it is apparent that he is on the outside now, not homeless and not living on the street or in a rest home, but part of those that must keep their finger on the button, on the keyboard and on the pulse of life that seems to be there for others, but not for me.

 

On the outside, and he has a longing/desire to go hiking, but now he needs a permit.  Needs permission for almost everything now.  And when he asks, “why?”:  there is no simple answer and he is never satisfied. Complexity.  Increased Population.  Computers and Cell Phone and Internet.   In a world where he is old, acts stranger and strange and is the uninvited one.  Or so it seems.  Wants to be outside, and yet no longer feels safe.  Can’t go alone.  Needs a companion or escort or armed security guard.

 

Seems like this is how he sees it now.  All tied up and bound by the acts of others, this might just be what happens when you no longer work, when your only son is no longer alive.  Might be, that on the outside no longer means going for a walk in the country, or on a hike, and most certainly doesn’t mean for him what it did for grandmother when surrounded by her family well into her 80’s, and she said. 

“this is nice.”

 

  Stoney blogger wakes up early.  Has learned to tone it down, remain in the quiet-man-way, and after tidying up a little, both self and kitchen, goes online to see what the people in Australia had to say.  Natter.  Then perhaps more reading .        Still too early to put the headsets on and listen to ESPN and the sports news.  NO longer has a TV set that was on all night and tuned into CNN News.  So now he has to look for it.  Explore.  Check out the mental landscape.  Go online and read the banners that substitute as newspaper and a cup of coffee and tea, to wake up and get things started. 

 

So he no longer goes to the front porch to see if the morning newspaper is there.  Rain or Shine, use-to-be that the paperboy would be up by 4 am and have his paper on the porch by 6 am.   That was then.  Now it is not like that.  Computer On-line with the World-Wide-Net, and on a day like today, it leaves him on the outside.  On the outside of a world that is all about others, and very little about him.  So he tries to relate.  Woke up early, so he has time on his hands.  By 6 am, he knows its futile to go out,  no sense to check the porch or yard for a newspaper or a friendly face.  It is not there.

 

Instead his option is to read what has accrued overnight.  And this is when he discovers, it is all quite disturbing.  Disturbing that he is on the outside, looking in.  “What’s Up?”  “How is it going?”  Legitimate interaction with others, and that is all in the past.  Flashbacks of how it use-to-be. 

 

Now it is other things that often catch him by surprise.   Flash-floods in Australia.  An Unfriendly Neighbor.  And more.  He reads.  “Hacking death of 3^rd Blogger shocks Bangladesh.”   Quite frankly, it shocks Stoney Blogger too.  Not fully awake, and not comprehending the full meaning of things, he worries about things, way out of control, and certainly not in his control.  Based on the outside and in a world distant, but at his fingertips and just in front, where the eye balls cannot ignore what they are seeing.  Disturbing that he doesn’t understand what is really going on. 

 

New Law in the State of Indiana.  Has people talking.  In another place, where I am not, Machete-action.   And now there are those who think that blogging is safe and that this could never happen in their neighbor, are having second thoughts.  At least, Stoney Blogger is having second thought, about what awaits him, On-The-Outside.

 

Makes a mental note to not go to Indiana until they hash things out, get a second opinion and maybe have Martial Law settle the matter.  Too far away to get into the action.  Has no idea why, he no longer has a sudden interest in sitting down and writing a blog.   Can’t write about Politics.  Can’t get into if it has anything to do with religion or about  sexual preferences.  New world, but familiar in an old way when he was trapped in the world of his parents and his grandparents. 

And as he grows old, he realizes.  One must be thankful and be gracious when faced with what others are saying and doing.  As if there is a wall between them now:  neighbors and relatives and the people, who are more complex Stoney Blogger will ever be.  No way to truly understand what going on.  On the outside, and this is why he sits in front of his computer, wondering what to do.  Can’t blog.  Afraid some will hunt him down, machete in hand.  Ok, just plain afraid.  And yes,   just saying this, gets old.  Have to make changes.  But the details escape Stoney Blogger.  Afraid to blog.  Not certain how to reach out.  Facebook and Twitter don’t work for Stoney. 

 

Ok its early.  Maybe he just didn’t get enough sleep.  Maybe out there, on-the-outside is an answer that will liberate the Stoney Mind, and put more emphasis on the first step.  Taking the step to freedom and safe being is for Stoney a trip back in time, where grandmother would implore him to do something.  “Go to the store.  Get some bread.” 

And for the rest of the day, Stoney knew what to do.  The store was 20 miles away.  He had no car.  And had to wait for a neighbor to pick him up.  On The Outside.  In the country.  In the mountains.  Lived the best they could, from day to day.  Not afraid.  Or so it seemed.  Later that would change, but like the kids say,

“Ancient History. What does this have to do with me!!!

Now go away.”

 

That’s exactly what Stoney Blogger did.  And now sits pondering, what is it like on-the-outside.

“You are beautiful, inside and out.”

And Stoney continues to talk to himself.  Alone and in Morning.  He says.  “Love is.  True.  True.”

“Forget about the machete.  Must do.”  

 

conversational hallucinations

CONVERSATIONAL HALLUCINATIONS

I thought I knew what I was writing.  On the blog site it refers to my blogs as conversations.  And did notice many options for displaying my thoughts.  Repost is an option and to invoke it I must put a check in the  square at the bottom of the posting page.  If that isn’t done, others can also display my blog on their page.  And I was aware of that.  So now I repeat myself.  I call this conversational hallucinations.  Expanded coverage of a thought and thoughts.com version of my original posting.  Nothing will remain uncorrupted when you go online.  There will be some form of disassociation and delusion. 

Nothing is as it seems.  Initial appearances give off a certain glow and perception can be disturbed by the manipulation of electronic programs, embedded within.  So we have learned this by being here.  Is there a cure for schizophrenia.  Write and Post.  After that are many layers of reception or deception or just garbled messages being received.  Auditory Hallucination.  Now convert it all to script, and your writing contains your initial thoughts, but now manipulated and disturbed, it is how others perceive your words and actions, that make the difference.  I have no problem with it.  Is why I am blogging about it and putting it out there.  Conversational Hallucinations.  My blog for today.

This in not a blog about Reposting blogs.  Rather it is my take on what happens when I don’t exhaust all the options, often held within the body of small print that acts as one’s acceptance of the web site rules for the host servers and display site.  It happens.  To be perfectly clear and make sure you are not caught up in something you just don’t understand, one must check the appropriate box and opt out of what ever it is.   As for me, I play according to what works for me.  Acceptance and Rules and I have learned, is what true justice is suppose to be, and  comes with a higher level of oversight.  A court decision that clarifies the final understanding of things.  

 

What’s it like hearing voices.  What’s it like seeing your blog on another person’s web site or page.  Just plain crazy or the natural order of things when you don’t check the proper box.  Opt in and Opt out.  Another way of saying, “Its free.  I made a choice, no matter how convoluted or difficult it is to know for sure, that is what happened.”   Check the box or lose your voice.  It is a choice and I fell into it because on the surface, free blogging appeals to me.  

What is the value of your time.  One hour for one dime.  For me, I just don’t convert words to money.  Some people do.  They make money off my efforts.  Not sure that is what is going on here.  It could be.  I just don’t know, and because I like to do this, I continue on.   Let other’s go to court.  The benefits should meet the time one invests in the event and process.  For me, I write and I post.  Then move on.

Conversational Hallucinations is just the name I give to this body of words floating free in space.  Is it free.  Does posting this blog, set me free?   And I have decided that if posting these blogs eventually associate me with Alzheimer’s or an Alzheimer’s Association, or just put me in touch with the eventuality of contacting states of delusion and shifting perceptions and diluted clarity; like not figuring it out before its too late, all this stuff about choice and the check-here –Opt-Out-activity, is but one more distraction in the practice of life that I have decided is too complex for me to deal with at the present moment. 

 

So comes down to choosing my words carefully.  Write.  Post.  Move on.   And if that is a Stoney Disorder, then that’s how it is.  Comes with aging and being part of a larger population and picture and perception of what’s going on.  Is there a cure for any of this, including schizophrenia:  not sure.  Mostly I am good.  Its free.  Posting words on this space frees me in one state of mind to another. 

 

What others do, is beyond me.  I am good to go.  Move on.  That’s what a stoney blogger will do.  Is what this Stoney Blogger does.  Is blogging just a different type of hallucinating.  Write.  Post.  What was I thinking?   And that’s what it is like for me.  Too complex for me to figure out.  Leave it to a higher power and the Supreme Court, or equivalent setups in different places not the USA. 

 

Amanda and her 8-years legal drama that spans the globe and ocean, and its truly every place now, or so it seems as I might be delusional.  A system is in place to reverse the original judgement, bringing the process full circle and in Amanda’s case, allowing her to get her life back.  So disturbance and distrust and all the things that bring tears, as for me I call it Conversational Hallucinations. 

 

 

Writing.  Posting.  Taking your chances all because you think there is value is getting all this for free.  NO money down.  Things happen.  And one will say, “Just Plain Crazy.”  Stoney Blogger will say, “Write.  Post.  Move on.  Baseball season is just around the corner. “  Exonerated.  Cured.  Better now.  Not sure.

 

And to demonstrate the point one more time.  He says,

 “Damn Yankees.”

 

SUNRISE AND SUNSET

SUNRISE AND SUNSET

I decided no head tax or frame of toxicology necessary to just come up with a clever title for this blog.  Who cares and who reads these things. Seems less and less and heard the rally call recently that said, “Read A Book.  Forget The Newspaper.”  It is not newspaper for much longer.  Trees and manual labor seem to be giving way to mercury in retrograde.  Count your blessing and your lucky stars, the probe has reached the outer limits of my basic experience.  Sunrise and Sunset and I wonder if this day will ever be over. 

 

Saying that because I just made soup.  Chicken in every pot and food on the table.  Beyond that, life and death just is.  Airplane slams in to a mountain in the French Alps.  150 souls released and the tears reach me even as I am just muddling through.  A good sermon seems to be brewing, and we will soon discover all the details and more than I need to know.  Was thinking about just that, people and it is their job to come up with something that  gets my attention.  10 second spot.  In an instance, a life time goes up and smoke, and it is their job.  Tell me about it.  Details and conjecture. 

But we know, all in a day’s work. 

Tomorrow there will be more life and death.  Suzzie gives birth and suddenly it is front page and eye-ball ready.  Who are these people?  Does it really matter?  Lunch is served.  Chicken and dumplings.  Election is over, but another is starting.  How long must I pay attention.  Not sure.  Figure my limit is from Sunrise to Sunset, after that.  Does it really matter?

 

  Weekends off, but not really.  Gather the strength to attend a bike show, spring time assembly of spokes and wheels, and after a winter of being threatened in the crosswalk while attempting to cross the street, I have restless dreams of armadillo on the road and car tracks.  Backing me up and causing stoppage, I wonder.  How long will this go on.  But receiving no answers. 

Just a dream and floating images non-stop.  PTSD. 

 

Now its time.  Boat Show.  Bike Show.  Check out the vendors and am naive and won’t ask.  “Why am I here.”   Doing this and it’s a choice.  Banner comes at me.  Look.  Respond.  Buy.  10 things you need to know today, and its easy this time.  Wave.  Casual reply.

 “Don’t need to know.  Goodbye.”

 

And a plane slams into a French  Alps mountain.  How many times will this happen before they take away my wings.  Reject my credit card and send me on; on-foot into the grill of a foreign import.  And now a crash report.  What was the extent of injury?  Will we recover?  And if we do, what about the 150 souls, now departed?  Over before it starts.  Sunrise to Sunset.  And I am just getting over it.  Getting my Chutzpa back.  Daylight savings time and messing with my body clock.  Sudden jolt and it does affect me.  Do you have your seat-belt on? 

 

Important question, if you are in my shoes, now being thrown under the bus, as more pressing things enter the intersection and you become fully aware.  Life is dangerous.  Even on a good day.

 

Open House and broken windows.  Enter at your own risk, as the surveillance camera is now on, drone is lifting and arming itself.  Many years ago I wondered what the promise of robotics might be, and how I would benefit.  Now I know.  Enter at your own risk.  The cat is harmless, but the mechanical bodies around the place have become improved and more effective.  Wireless and roaming.  Equipted with custom-made body amour, their job is to protect the premise and  detonate by auto-command. 

Will be years in and out of the courts to determine:  Do I have the right to protect personal space and my little family?  Not sure this is the proper time for this discussion.  Like to keep my blogs short, in hopes that it will be read.  Lots of competition for your attention.  Don’t be one of those who just sit around and try to come up with a headline you just have to read, and once on the page and haven’t clicked away, perhaps I will try to sell you on something. 

 

For me, it is an open invite to use personal choice in the present moment.  Keep or Reject.  Just know.  Another election is nearing.  The magic number is all my guys in office and your money in my pocket.  Anything less would be disappointing.  That’s what I am saying.

Have a solution.  Electronic transfer.  Words on a screen reminding you what just happened.  No direct exchange.  It happens electronically.  Sunrise to Sunset, the world of the modern age dances around you.   And so it is I understand.  Weekends are similar to 24/7 days.  It is a planned event.  Spontaneous no longer.  Not accidental, unless it is. Police are investigating.  Details will follow.    Schedules must be made and accomplished.

 Boat Show.  Bike Show.  Plane Crash. 

All are must read and demanding your attention.  But with second thoughts I step back.  Blend in and wrap myself around the shadow that grows into complete darkness and misunderstanding.  Not sure it matters what more I will say about the sunrise to sunset cycle.  Wheels are turning, but then total blackness.  Plane slams into a French Alps Mountain. 

And I cry.