Never leave your child alone with a party clown

I think the title is all this post needs. Happy Hanukkah!

Oldest Dirty Bastard

In order to hold the title of "Oldest Dirty Bastard" you must use food stuffs as your main source of innuendo. Anyone for "instant mash" or receiving a "gift basket" (just add banana)?But even with success in mashing potatoes and inserting bananas into the fruit basket equation, the Oldest Dirty Bastard would occasionally suffer "writer's block".Of course, there is one simple cure for writer's block and cold frankfurters, which involves much repetitious pleading, again, referencing food stuffs found in 1930s era pantries.After all remedies have been applied, the requisite compliments and flattery are employed to ensure continued therapy and possibly a large breakfast of biscuits, sausages, fruits, and figgy pudding (well, I'd want figgy pudding afterwards).

Giving thanks for good health

I had an examination with my oncologist today. My health is good. I am really happy about this. My oncologist has been there for me over the past while like no other person. To be honest, not only did she save my life, she gave me a different life. I have been able to talk to her about things that I'd not been able to with anyone who was in an "official" position to help me, including spiritual. She is a true healer with no intent to judge.

Anyway, she is moving on to another hospital. Today was the last checkup I had with her. We talked about the past four years and how she was only two years out of her residency when she handled my diagnosis and treatment plan. We talked about my rough journey of overcoming cancer, the loss of my sister to alcohol, and the loss of my mother to cancer (whom she got to know well during my chemotherapy treatments), all while we knew each other. We hugged and said our farewells. I also told her how grateful I was for all that she had done for me.

I don't know that I'm ready to break in another doctor. It will not be the same, but I am okay. My life may not be perfect, but the deep wounds that I've carried in my life are not so bad anymore. To have been treated by a true healer is a blessing. Doc, I give you thanks from the best part of me. I will try to make the life you gave me worthy of the effort you put into saving it.

Scrape

The process of me getting up in the morning is similar to that of one ridding their shoes of undesirable matter. Despite the hard work of the people I find that my country is not any better than it used to be. I don't quit getting up in the morning to face the day, despite the feeling that things aren't improving. I hope this isn't what being an American means, nowadays. I'm looking forward to what the coming "Occupy Congress" movement will do. The US needs more effective management. Hopefully, the public will not give up in voicing this demand.

I never once thought that Wall Street would have given two shits about any of the occupy movements, so long as they could conduct their business. They are about the money only. This is their job. Why was this a surprise? Congress, on the other hand, are public servants, and the only thing the public is getting served is a confused arrangement of shit.

I have no overwhelming desire to be rich. Hell, it would be nice, but I'm not motivated in that regard. I would, however, like to feel some of that hope that I once heard about a few years back. Having the "right" ideals means nothing if you lack the ability or resolve to see them through. Why would I order the best pizza in the world if it wouldn't get delivered? Hell, I can say lots of fun stuff to people and get them all excited too! Whatever gets me the job. I'm tired of leaders either being insane or some golden retriever stuffed into a suit.

It is the media and the primaries that have spawned this ridiculous campaigning that we enjoy today. You tell me who looks like a normal human being, or a competent leader of a superpower? We have no clue how to get out of this mess, we really don't.

SUPER POSITIVE EBAY FEEDBACK ENDING!!! A++++++!!!!!!!

The absence of effective State, and, especially, national, restraint upon unfair money-getting has tended to create a small class of enormously wealthy and economically powerful men, whose chief object is to hold and increase their power. The prime need to is to change the conditions which enable these men to accumulate power which it is not for the general welfare that they should hold or exercise. We grudge no man a fortune which represents his own power and sagacity, when exercised with entire regard to the welfare of his fellows. Again, comrades over there, take the lesson from your own experience. Not only did you not grudge, but you gloried in the promotion of the great generals who gained their promotion by leading their army to victory. So it is with us. We grudge no man a fortune in civil life if it is honorably obtained and well used. It is not even enough that it should have been gained without doing damage to the community. We should permit it to be gained only so long as the gaining represents benefit to the community.

The fundamental thing to do for every man is to give him a chance to reach a place in which he will make the greatest possible contribution to the public welfare. Understand what I say there. Give him a chance, not push him up if he will not be pushed. Help any man who stumbles; if he lies down, it is a poor job to try to carry him; but if he is a worthy man, try your best to see that he gets a chance to show the worth that is in him. ~President Theodore Roosevelt

Confession

I am not a Vietnamese prostitute. I am sorry that I let this charade go on for so long. In other snooze, I have written a children's book on the art of taxidermy. In other, other snooze, I lied about writing a children's book on the art of taxidermy. I am so sorry that I let this charade go on for one entire sentence. I blame the Liberal media for the first and Fox News for the later.

Now that things are straightened out, I need to attend to more important matters. By the way, if I were really a Vietnamese prostitute, I would go by the name of Netflix.

The End!

Etheuorque (Now featuring a mustache!)

Click here to see an old post with a picture of me with horrible facial hair.

Who would like the challenge of defining my newly minted word? It's the title; I made it up. Yes, I'm silly and have no life, but help me anyway.

In other snooze, I did manage to sneak up to the hills on the weekend, during a break in the bad weather. I tried to excavate what I was talking about in the previous post and it wasn't even a "Geraldo" moment. What I thought was the entrance was a pocket, but through more digging found large slabs of rock collapsed on top of each other. I did find a bunch of ash, possibly from an old miner's campfire. So, I determined that it was foolish and way too dangerous for me, all by myself, to proceed. There is a tunnel back in the mountain some distance further, but it is beyond reasonable effort and risk to uncover. This is fine, however. This is just tunnel #1 of 4 in this camp--the one in the picture found here. I will have to post pics later. I'm hoping to at least have something interesting, besides dirt, to show.

Could this be my Geraldo moment?

I remember watching Geraldo Rivera excavating the "secret" vaults of Al Capone with great anticipation of him finding a cache of loot or human remains. In the end, all that was found was a couple of broken bottles. My "Geraldo" moment may come soon. I have found an intriguing old mine that I discovered from a misidentified photo on the Utah Historical Society website. I located the mine camp last weekend and the mine entrance has long since been covered over by erosion. There is very little indication of human activity in that area, due to its overgrowth and difficulty of access.

Anyway, I started prying around with a branch and found the earth coming out with ease--the opening starting to reveal itself. While this is not a good idea, I have got all excited with thoughts of finding some cool artifacts left behind. This is probably unlikely, but I intend to find out anyway just for the hell of it. So this weekend, it will be me + pickaxe vs. landslide. I might be able to talk one of my friends into coming along and bringing his gullible brother in law along to do the brunt of the work. The only problem with this is that if any real loot is found, then you have to split it up. Well, the solution to that is to bring a gun and kill them right after they hand me the goods. I will already have a ready-made crypt for them; now all I need is a giant stone to roll over the hole.

Wait, you guys do read every word I write in my posts, not just the first couple of sentences, right? Drat! Okay, forget the part where I murder two people and pretend I said that we gave our riches to the starving orphans instead. I'm probably just going to find a couple of old, broken bottles anyway.

Please tell me this is normal

So, with the deaths over the past two years of my sister and mother, I tend to expect someone else close to me to kick the bucket. It's not that there is a person in my family that I feel is near death at the moment, but I've gotten used to the idea that death has come closer to me. The reason I bring all of this up is that I have been looking at my dad and wondering when and how it's going to end for him. I wonder if it will be quick or drawn out. I also wonder if it will be me who finds him, how long he will have been dead before someone is to find him, what he'll look like, and if I find him, if I'll be ready. When he and I are around each other I can't help it; he tends to get stuck in these story-telling loops and all I can seem to think about is his mortality. I should be listening to him and taking down all I can of his life.

So, is this abnormal of me to think about? Images of my mother's last moments flash in my head now and again. While I have long accepted her death, those difficult images of her struggle and death remain. Even though I handled her last moments as best as I could, I still don't want to ever go through that experience again. But since my brother and I are the ones taking care of my dad, it is highly probable that it will either be one of us to handle his death and my job to handle the funeral and affairs of my father's estate. I am not ready for this at the moment, but when would I ever be? What a sad apprenticeship I've had helping with the last two family members' deaths. It has been an honor, but not something that I look forward to doing again.

I hope I get a break in this department and more joy all around.

Typing for attention

Hi! I was feeling a bit lonely and decided to post something so you would feel obliged to comment. There's not a whole lot going on at the moment. I've had some good hikes. Um, I haven't really been listening to any new music. I've been trying to watch a few horror flicks a week to get myself in the Halloween mood. The McRib is back, so I've been ignoring any kind of sensible eating lately. I still dream of winning the lottery and buying my own volcanic island headquarters, in which I will plan my take over of the world. Yeah, it wouldn't really be an evil take over; in fact, I think people would find me to be very nice. I would certainly consult with people who would have your best interests in mind. Part of my plan would be to provide a sanctuary for homeless people, but it would be more of a "preserve" than a shelter. I would recreate their natural environment, provide plenty of "walk throughs" with extra change to give, and enough boxes and dumpsters to keep them happy. The public would help fund this "homeless preserve" by spending money on jeep safari tours through the homeless preserves. Poachers would be fined heavily.

Yeah.

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

I love cemeteries. In fact, some of my favorite people in the world are in them right now.
I don't get creeped out that much. It's more a feeling of peace mixed with pondering my own mortality. There is also mystery as to who the people were that have been laid to rest there.

I love Fall. October ushers in a different spirit for me. I tend to fight it at first, but then I give in and let it take me where ever it wants to go.
Usually, I go and check out various sights, such as cemeteries and ghost towns, during this time of year. It fits my mood and keeps me interested in life. Funny how death and decay has a way of bringing to light how lucky you are to be living...and I am lucky to be living, despite all of the loss and hardship in the past five years of my life.
BTW, I wish I could pull off the "Uncle Fester" look once more, but only for a night and not because of cancer. What a great look for Halloween.

Feelin' a bit posty and unfocused

I've had less and less to say lately. There's no one reason for it. My desire to pour my heart out to the world is something that isn't that important to me anymore. I get a feeling that what goes on in my head is best kept in there. Maybe I fear getting myself in trouble or in risk of ostracization, which would be fine with me, so long as my family doesn't disown me. I guess what I feel and think is a bit different, so sayeth the Lamb. It's not like I'm some great innovator, rich man, or guru. I'm the weird adult, who was the weird teenager, who was the odd child. I've tried to see things the way I was supposed to and I'll be honest, I couldn't see that sail boat in the 3D picture where you had to cross your eyes, either. So, I guess I am just supposed to surrender my perspective and go along with it all to make everyone happy and comfortable--whatever works. Bleh...I need to stop bitching and do something better with my life.

I think I will write a novel about Frankenstein, only he's hunkier and starts a virtuous romance with a teenage girl. If only the jocks with garden implements and torches would just leave him alone. Yeah, that's the ticket.

My latest craze has been finding abandoned mines and Native American rock art around the hills where I live. I am amazed at what I have found in my backyard, so to speak. I have found a couple of steam engines and boilers, panels of rock art, and more poison ivy and snakes than I care for. The weird thing is that in one area that I've found a network of mines recently, I had reoccurring dreams about, going as far back as ten years ago. In those dreams I was finding all sorts of holes in the mountain. Well, in real life, I did find the mines, but they are all mostly reclaimed or caved in. It's a good thing, because abandoned mines are death traps.

Okay, it's time for me to go to sleep.

Apparently, love is not enough and is not the answer

It was First when John was 4 and then 8 when he heard the Beatles sing "All you need is love". After that his minister told him to shut up about the Beatles, put some money in the collection plate, and read his bible.

Water

I don't have enough time to properly muse about this life-giving and sustaining element. There is enough time to tell a quick story about water, though. Anybody who says that water's taste is boring, or that it has no taste, is a boring person with no taste. We all had that favorite drinking fountain in school that tasted a bit better than the others. Each one of us, back when it was still cool to drink bottled water, had our own reasons for liking a certain "spring" or "glacier" brand water that hydrated us better, and at the same time had a certain satisfying taste. Maybe it isn't a definable taste per se; rather, a wetness and/or clean feeling you experienced as you drank it. However, I can say for a surety that naturally occurring water has a definite taste.

Well, on occasion, I do something stupid and drink out of streams when I hike. I haven't gotten sick as of yet. When all the orifices of mine start spewing forth all manner of waste products, I'll know I finally got my due. However, I don't do this as often now, and am very careful. Anyway, I have noticed a bit of difference in stream water. It really isn't what I would call pure. There's a sense that you are risking something, but at the same time enjoying it thoroughly. Yeah, I've had times where I've found carcasses of animals in streams that I had drank out of before. The thought of dead animals in the water adding to the flavor kind of ruined this romantic idea of mine that mountain streams were pure. Besides, springs are the way to go. But, in order to take full advantage of a spring, you must find the source.

Today, while on a hike, I came across a small stream of water trickling down the mountain. I decided to follow this little trail of wetness to see where it came from. Ferns started appearing in tight clusters and the overall vegetation was thicker than the surrounding area. A little ways up, there was a PVC pipe driven into the earth in the middle of the flow. From this pipe the water channeled outward so that one could fill a canteen. I bent over, cupped my hands under the pipe while filling them up, and drank with too much excitement that caused me to choke and cough for a bit. After I got my throat cleared, another attempt was made. This time I was able to take in all that I captured with my hands. Being thirsty from the hike, and not too keen on the stale water from my hydration pack, I followed this act again and again, like I was near death from dehydration. The flavors were exceptionally clean, yet earthy, while at the same time I could detect mossy, leafy notes. Possibly, it was not tapped into the source, but clean enough, filtered by gravel, dirt, then plant debris. I wish I could send you all some right now; it was glorious.

Now, only if I had time to tell you about the wild raspberries I found.

Helping=Happier (For Tys on Ice: Special Re-Re-Edited For Content Edition)

I spent the day up in the mountains confusing and scaring off fish. I am not a good fisherman. What I am good at is helping others, and that is just what I did today. My brother and I (my brother is the only person that will hang out with me for more than a couple of hours these days) were off the beaten path in the mountains on a rough trail. We were in his Ford Exploder, which has four-wheel drive, but is not that great of a wheeler. I would have much rather been in my truck, save for the fact that today's outing would have cost me over $60 in gas. Anyway, we get to this lake and start to get out; this is when I start hearing tires spinning, smoke, and some dude frantically shouting "I AM SO (see bottom of post)!!!"

I walk up the trail to see this two-wheel drive truck with its front end down into some trees, the undercarriage hung up on a boulder, and it's ass end sticking up. Somehow this guy and his wife thought that turning around in this narrow and treacherous area was a better idea than simply backing down. I helped where I could by giving him advice and helping him carry it out--using a jack, branches, and flat rocks. It all seemed promising, but there simply weren't enough bodies to help. My brother didn't have any tow straps, plus there wasn't any way we could get in there without getting hung up ourselves. This is when I decided to go for a walk and see if there was anybody else around to help. Fortunately, there was a bunch of people coming in a five-seater buggy.

I got their attention and talked to the guys. They really weren't interested in helping. I was a bit surprised because they had their boys with them. Aren't dads supposed to be teaching their sons how to be good men? It took me about five minutes to persuade these guys to go a little out of their way and help. Once we all got up there, we tried and failed a few times, but with our collective minds and muscles, we finally got this poor guy and his wife out of the trees and off of this boulder. This proves the old adage correct in that many hands make light work.

The couple thanked us all and after the others left the guy, Bryce, thanked me especially. I kind of got the feeling that Bryce was a lot like me, in that, I don't ask for help that often and when I usually do it isn't with the words "help me". No, it is usually someone overhearing me say, in a figurative way, "I AM SO (see bottom of post)!" It still amazes me how many people would rather keep on going, so you have to just decide that you are going to be one of those people who stops and helps. It's the only way people like me are going to get unstuck. It's just nice that I could help this time. It took my mind off of my troubles for a bit.

Hobot 6000

Is it a robot prostitute or a cyber hobo? You decide!


Yeah, it has been kind of a blah week. I had to write something silly to cheer me up; it worked.

Why get so excited? (Horoscope included)

"...members of the Taurus tribe are about to be roused out of their plodding rhythm by a bolt of cosmic mojo. Get ready to rumble--and I mean that in the best sense of the word." Recent excerpt from "Free Will Astrology", by Rob Brezsny.

I usually don't even look at horoscopes. They're pretty much crap, right? Why, then, did I look at mine in the latest weekly city paper and get all hopeful? I think I wanted something to feel good about. Usually, it is fantasy that drives most of us or keeps us from totally packing it in. Sometimes fantasy is not seen as such and becomes part of our reality. Why do we do this? I think I do it because I want more from life--the things that I can't have right at this moment. Sometimes I want the things that are impossible to have or uncertain that they even exist. There are many things that we believe in that have no proof to back them up, but we still do believe in them. So, why get so excited? I guess I'm like a chimpanzee behind the glass at the zoo, thinking that one day my feces will magically pass through to the other side and hit my target. It's a thought that keeps me going.

No man is an island

So, you are not truly self made. But why make that look so attractive if it is a fallacy? What if I like being an island? My problem is that when I try being an island a cruise ship starts circling my shores. This cruise "ship of fools" wants to find out what I've been doing with my coconuts on my island. Do I despise the ship or the fools more? I guess there are fools anywhere you go. Whoever put the fools on the ship and sailed them to my beach is probably some kind of demented Captain Stubing, saying, "Go forth and show this man you 'love' him, but make sure you irritate him as much as possible by being untactful and condescending."

Yeah, I'm a strange one.

Nope, not ready for another post

But my fingers need the exercise anyway. What can I talk about? Well, I can tell you about a gross experience I had. I was unloading a storage pod. I grabbed a chair to hand it over to my buddy and the chair didn't leave my hand. I pulled back and the chair followed my right hand, middle finger. An upholstery staple had embedded itself into the flesh of my finger. When I yanked back there was a sharp pain then I could feel the staple tear right through. The chair dropped and I shouted a bit. Strangely, there was little blood. It was more of a finger scalping than anything. So I have a rather tender middle finger right now, with a nice patch of skin gone from it. This is karma for all those motorists that I've flipped off over the years.

I finally found the missing bearing cage and ball bearings for the back wheel of a vintage fifties cruiser bike that I'd been tinkering around with some time ago. I haven't yet got to putting the rear axle back together, but I will soon. I am not restoring this bike, but getting it mechanically sound, straightened out, and rideable (spell check doesn't like that word). I like the fact that it will be a bit rusty and faded; plus, the chain guard is from another bike from an earlier era and is green (the bike is red and white). This will complete the "ugly" look that I desire. I can't afford to throw any money into my truck anymore, so this will suffice.

Speaking of my truck, Clyde, I was certain that I was going to have to put a bullet in him recently. I have been hearing strange noises from the engine. I thought it was a bad valve, lifter, or pushrod. If you know engines, these are serious signs that you are nearing a complete overhaul at worst, a head job at the least. The thing is, if you are going to pull the heads, you might as well pull the whole engine. And if you do that, you might as well rebuild the whole damn thing, replacing the clutch while you're at it. Even for an old truck, this isn't cheap. I could certainly do the assembly and installation of the engine, but the machine work I would leave to the pros.

I really should just buy a newer truck, but from what I do to trucks, it doesn't make sense to burn twenty to thirty grand. How many newer trucks could I do most of the work on with a basic set of tools? How many newer trucks would I want to get totally scratched up by pinions and sage brush, dented by rocks, and not have to worry about devaluing it? I would love a new truck; they are way more powerful, nicer, and fuel efficient than the old ones. But an old truck is just me: tough, beat up, and filled with character. Anyway, the cause of the noise turned out to be something minor and I took care of it.

It was about two years ago that I was with my mother and sister, heading up to Steamboat, Colorado, to help support my sister at her court hearing for the DUI. I had no idea at that time that within a year and a half that they'd both be taken from me. I remember how good it felt to embrace my sister and tell her how much I loved her and how happy I was that the legal ordeal was behind her. I remember seeing my mother cry while hugging her daughter. God in Heaven, I do not understand the wisdom of these things--the loss--especially of my dear sister Bonnie. Hell, I can even remember our crappy dinner at the JB's in Vernal and joking about it afterward. My heart aches for her still. When I dropped her off at rehab, I had about a five minute hug with her. I could feel her mixed with relief and fear. I talked to her and told her how much I loved her. She responded that I could never know how much she loved and appreciated me. I may never get to know how much she did love and appreciate me, but I just can't stand how much I miss her now and I hope that somehow she knows it, as an expression of my love. I can't write anymore, sorry.

So, anyway, I did have something to post about after all.

Luck?

I haven't been feeling unlucky, but I have been feeling like I need more luck than what I've been getting rationed. There's things in my life that I need that little extra help with that only luck can seem to provide. I guess I should make my own luck, but if it is anything like the time I tried to make curry, the results ended up rejected in the toilet.

If you make your own "luck" it isn't called luck; it's just making things happen. Maybe I'm not good at that. Well, at least I'm good at thinking before I do stupid things, most of the time. The point I'm trying to make here is that you can't achieve luck, just as you can't achieve the lottery. You need to have the odds in your favor, sure, but more than that, you need luck.

I have no rituals or lucky objects/charms. Do they seem to work for you? I really think it is more of a way that one reduces anxiety--a way of feeling in control. If I was to do some kind of ritual to get more luck or favor in my life it would probably involve a goat. Before I could get the ritual underway, the goat would probably find some interesting electrical cord to chew on and die. As for a lucky object/charms, I'd probably have a lucky left sock. Yes, I would not be lucky, but my lucky left sock would end up winning the lottery, leaving me and Mr. Right Sock all alone. I need luck not lucky things.

It's pretty silly to ask God for better luck, because that gives off the message that you prefer luck over divine intervention. The problem is that nobody gets "lucky" when God is behind your fate's steering wheel. Luck grants you those things that you are afraid to ask God for. Luck is like your cool older brother that lets you have a beer and a nudie mag for a baby sitter. There's no way God is going to listen to those requests and let you get away with it. Luck covers more bases because luck doesn't judge. Having said that, you do not want to piss off God or turn down his help. It's just smart.

So, I want a bit more mojo this coming year. I think I'm due for some good luck. So if you have a bit more luck than you need, consider my plea: Brother, could you spare me some luck?

Polyandry Annie

I want to form my own circus, kind of like Cirque du Soleil, but less gay. I would call mine Cirque du Jirques. Bring a tarp. I really wouldn't want such a thing but my mind finds the word play fun. Anyway, I'm sure that such a thing already exists in Tijuana or Japan.

Don't you hate it when you bite the side of your mouth or tongue? Well, maybe it doesn't hurt so much as you just have a poor attitude about the whole thing in the first place. Do what I do and call them "flavor bursts". You'll begin to enjoy life and the taste of your own blood all the more!

Jim Carrey sure has broke new comedic ground with his "Mr. Popper's Penguins". It's sure to win him some kind of Oscar, Golden Globe, night with a tranny hooker. But he can't ride on the coattails of those adorable penguins the rest of his prestigious career. Nope, he'll return to a bit of hard comedy, like "Cable Guy" or "I Love You Phillip Morris". See, the common belief is that you can't have the sweet without the sour, and Jim should give it both ways long time. My movie idea for Mr. Carrey is this: A bumbling, old store clerk by day who transforms as a male prostitute at night. Yes, Mr. Carrey will take on the roll of the famous toilet paper pitchman, Mr. Whipple, starring in "Mr. Whipple's Nipples". This movie, and Jim's performance, will answer the question why you were not allowed to squeeze the Charmin, really.

That's all the post ideas I can remember for now. I was in the sun too long today and I feel a slight case of thermal retardation coming on.

Meow!

Met one of my bloggies this week

Christielli came and visited the wonderful land of OZ and explored all that it had to offer the world in just several days; two main things being, of course, mammoth ice cream portions, and lots of dry land. The other thing would be a strange group of people known as Mormons, or God's own "white and delightsome" sons and daughters (sort of like a Paul Newman salad dressing). I know this to be true because of a strange feeling I get when I'm around a white and delightsome woman. It is the spirit testifying to me that the chosen vessel is truly delicious to the taste--in Mormon scripture, Lehi's Dream tells one to hold to the "Iron Rod" in order to best taste of these fruits. Women have testified the same of men, but it is forbidden to have this confirmation of, say, men and men, and women and women, except in times of sexual famine (prison, mission, scout camp). Yeah, this has nothing to do with the post. Please, keep reading.

So, yeah, my job was to show Christielli and friend behind the Mormon Curtain. The oddities, warts and all, as well as the good things too. It was something that was hard to do, given walking distances and time constraints. And I'll be honest with you people: In real life I am not a small, red guy who swears all the time and cracks wise at the drop of a hat. I also do not speak or read Mandarin Chinese (please stop sending me emails, Yuqi). Thankfully, Christielli knew these things before hand and has a firm grip on reality, so meeting her was not awkward in the least. Her friend was very nice, too. So, I did show them around Temple Square and just a slice of downtown SLC. The whole time I was thinking in the back of my head that I really did not know what in the hell I was going to do next, where to go, or if they were getting bored.

If you need to know one thing about me is that I deal with my anxieties by not planning, versus over planning. So, the plan, as far as I was concerned, was to point at stuff and say things. It worked; I think--kind of like that kid from "Jerry Maguire" going on about the weight of a human head and how dogs and bees smell fear. Now if only I could earn a living that way, I'd be set.

So the tour went by and once that was done, the one thing you can do in this town to curb boredom is to eat. So my idea was to pick the noisiest restaurant (Blue Iguana), with the most people inside, that way you get to yell "what" and "huh" a lot. Yeah, the "Outdoor Retailers" convention was in town. When having to deal with loud crowds of people in a restaurant, all that matters to me is "food goes in here" *points into mouth*. The food was good. We left the place and then we said our good byes. I went back to Gruntonia and they have since gone to NYC and all that is "Mo"town is now a faint, disturbing memory to them (I kid).

What was Christielli like? Well, I make no commentary on my guests because they were awesome and there's no arguing about it. If you want to know what Christielli is like, go and read her blog and become a fan yourself!

The people that I have met from Blogland have been great. I am not always enthusiastic about meeting new people. So, if I agree to come out of my shell and hang out, it means that I think you are one of the good ones. This is not to say that if I haven't met you yet that I think you are lame. It just means that we haven't met yet.

The best part about this post is that it is more than just a plain mentioning of said event. This makes my post creepy! I aim to please. Toodles!

The search for facts goes on....wait, went too far. (Added Commentary)

Here's the thing about the endless search for fact: it usually ends with a picture of some sad person with a dick in their mouth. The unrestricted search for light also allows darkness to intrude. Google image search is a prime example of this: you image search something long enough without any filters and you end up looking at a picture of some sad person with a dick in their mouth.

The pure, unadulterated fact is smothered in adulteration. Yeah, that is a bit contradictory, but so is just about anything once you really pull it apart. What I meant to say is that, you have to really be willing to push that filth aside to do it yourself. You could just follow someone else's quest or claims, but where's the adventure in that? So, you take it upon yourself to gleam the untarnished picture of reality. Then, you are faced with this question: at what cost come the facts?

What is truth? I've always assumed that facts and truth were the same. Lately, I've started to feel that truth has more of an agenda and facts just are. Truth seems to only need necessary assembled facts in order to live, but it needs plenty of window dressing to get people to believe in it. That, in and of itself, would be great if it meant that the minimal facts that "truths" were based on had enough strength to overcome the preponderance of evidence towards a greater fact.

Let me use a poor example: A government fought wars based on many reasons, only few were known to the public; the few that were known to the public were just; the others held secret were diabolical--which version will be taught to the children? Wow, that was a bad sentence! The truth for the government will be that it was just. The truth for those who discovered the atrocities will see things as unjust. If you lay out the facts it may skew one way or another when the total cause and effect is seen. But what does that matter? People go away with what facts they desire and start decorating it with their own ideology, culture, and beliefs. Either way, truth is a salve, a pipe dream, and ends up being the foundation for the stories we tell ourselves when we go to bed at night: all is well, or all is not well but at least I'm right!

I come to this conclusion because most people that tout the truth do so on the basis of thin air, lots of emotion, and a few inspiring real events thrown in for good measure. The holding dear to these "truths" might in of itself fulfill many aspects of the promise of said truth, but most of these truths promise more than measurable/verifiable results. This is where it gets crazy. This is where the "truth" promises you the bounty of the universe but in reality it gives you something that is more earthbound. We get these earthly results and try to extend them into realms unknown. The thing is that you can start demanding more and more of people with the promises of delicious "moon cheese"; even more, you can control them.

See, what truth does is sell you your script; your performance and how the audience reacts is reality. So, you can act well your part, as the famous saying goes, or you can change the script. But, if you decide to see what really goes on behind the scenes, you are eventually going to open a dressing room and see some sad person with a dick in their mouth.

P.S.

I'll be the first to say that I went a bit overboard on the metaphor and imagery. Bad Grunt!

I also wanted to clarify that I was speaking about what people hold as true versus THE TRUTH. I feel that what gets embraced as truth sometimes is an attempt to make sense of facts, when mixed up with culture, myth and emotion. Objectivity seems to be in short supply concerning matters of faith, because faith is by nature subjective. Yet, we use faith as a way of following and declaring "so-called" truths. This is hardly the way an investigator arrives at a conclusion of truth, by a preponderance of evidence.

My sister Bonnie used to see the evidence of cases in both her jobs at the State Supreme Court and Federal Courts. She used to come home crying her guts out at seeing these things. This was a large contributor to her alcoholism. The whole truth is not always uplifting, but there are people that have to know in order to best help and to best make correct decisions. If you don't want to know, that is fine, but you can't clean a toilet without stirring up the shit.

Fries

Lamb Weston "MAC FRIES" French Fried Potatoes. Ingredients: Potatoes, Partially Hydrogenated Soybean Oil, Natural Flavor, Disodium Dihydrogen Pyrophosphate (To Promote Color Retention), Dextrose.

Put this in hot oil and I go nuts.

A more popular post for the masses

I just wanted to let you know that I've taken to wearing white sweaters, skipping, holding neighborhood picnics, helping old ladies, singing in a barbershop quartet, and I've given up all of that silly thinking that I used to do. WOW, I do feel better!!!

Well, I'm off to the mountains. If you see any rainbows coming from there, then you can be sure that it's shooting straight out my ass.

Sunday: A Day of Rest or...

Another episode of "Race to God Mountain"? I love spiritual one-upmanship. It's what Jesus died for. It's the reason why Buddha meditated under the Bodhi tree and achieved enlightenment. It's why Mohammed hung out in a cave and got hassled by an angel and wrote the Koran. They did all of this so you could win, win, WIN!!! Yes, religion, the greatest reality game show of all time. Get there first! Get there hardest!! Get it all!!! WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just lettin' you know, Heavenly Father: When I get to heaven, I'll want the holy catamaran, not the LeSabre.

Cyanide (w/explanation)

It's poisonous as hell, yet it is still useful. Mining operations have used cyanide to extract gold from ores that previously was impossible to do so. What kind of gold, I then wonder, is so worth extracting from my person?

I was pondering a bit last night about trials and how overcoming adversity can bring out the best in people. I thought about the poisons, literal and figurative, that have come into my life in the last four years that have not killed me, but I have yet to find out fully what surviving them means. I guess I want to make something better of myself. I don't want to have my trials become mere sad or trying events. I'd like to think that there's still something even more awesome within me waiting to bust out.

My bloggies are the best and I know that you've had to put up with many enigmas regarding my ideas, moods, and posts. Just remember that I always count you all in my personal evaluations of why life is still worth living; I feel that out there, somewhere, I am someone's favorite weirdo. That sustains me right there, brothers and sisters.

Post# whatever

I get a lot from you and your comments. I needed to tell you all that. I do have friends and family, but this blog has been my outlet for that part of me that I had to stifle in order to make good with the teachers, principals, bishops, Sunday school teachers, scout masters, mission leaders, and bosses.

I used to get in a lot of trouble. For such a self conscious person, I sure could be impulsive when I was young. Sometimes it just made me happy to call my algebra teacher a "fucking asshole" in front of the class. Sometimes it made me happy to experiment with firecrackers and seeing how big a one I could make. Sometimes life just made more sense after huffing gasoline in my friend's trailer. Sometimes I just didn't want to go to school and do my homework (which resulted in night and summer school).

Why? Because, there were nights where I found my grandma half-naked in the hall crying because she didn't make it to the bathroom in time. And the times when my grandpa, from the other side of the family, would have buckets of piss laying around in the room and I'd have to dump them for him, only to have him ask, "Whose boy are you?" Then there were those times where my dad made me call up his work and say stuff like my sister was in a car accident, so he didn't have to go into work--because he wouldn't leave the master bedroom due to panic attacks. My dad finally losing his job and never returning to work, ever, was a real boost to my esteem. Oh, and my mother almost dying of cancer during all of this shit. Yeah, and that feeling that I was causing all of this to happen to my family because of my dirty thoughts and delinquencies. Yeah, that good ol' "I'm really gonna go to hell" feeling; that was all I felt the whole time growing up. So, getting out and breaking a window, throwing a rock at a car, getting into fist fights: yeah, that was a nice outlet. Now, after many years of the white washing of my soul not working out, I find myself blogging. It is more becoming of me, I think.

After having crapped this enormous paragraph, a memory has come back to me. When my oldest sister got pregnant out of wedlock, my dad gathered the whole family together to discuss the matter. After all the news was handed to us there was a silence, and then I said, "But what will the neighbors think?"

Nothing, Everything, and Anything.

There seems to be a point where Nothing really matters; where Everything you were taught becomes obsolete, yet you feel Anything is possible. We will all have this moment. A moment where Anything can be the cause, and Nothing can stop it from happening; where you have to let go of Everything in your life. Because Everything we think is important and Anything we've done to secure those things will amount to Nothing unless you accept the mystery and embrace what awaits beyond.

Why?

Why can't TV executives read my mind and produce a show called, "Murder, She Farted!"

Why do birds suddenly appear every time road kill is near?

Why does Jesus look like a viking in some paintings?

Why are there so many songs about rainbows and why aren't they all gay?

Why does the economy still suck donkey balls?

Why can't ice cream make me look as good as it makes me feel?

Why can't I have everything that I want, including a big, red hat that has a bell on top that makes loud noises, and not become an asshole?

Why does God let good things happen to bad people and somewhat alright things happen to people between the ages of 18-36, aaaaaand still Jim Carrey feels there is not enough attention in the world given to him?

Why must you look at me that way?

Nancy Kerrigan?

Bits and pieces

I don't have a lot to say, but there is a lot on my mind lately. I have to think about my future in terms of reality and not fantasy/horror genres. I have been working really, seriously hard, but still have no permanent status with the hours that I've been getting. I've had them cut and then given back to me, but from all over the damn place (different departments), to finally getting an ok through till September. Why? Because it turns out that they really, really needed me...but only until the hard work is over. I feel foolish for not thinking of myself more; as in, taking care of my future and my needs. I sometimes get real down on myself for this.

On a somewhat, but not totally related note: There's this feeling I get that people think I'm strange, or that something is wrong with me. I haven't figured myself out completely, but aside from professional things, I think I know myself well enough to understand what I don't like and what is going to lead me to liberation of soul and mind.

The personal views that are developing from dealing with all that my family and I have been through are taking me to better places inside of me and in harmony with the cosmos. These places are helping me heal, overcome self hate, anger, and accept more humanity into my life. These places are also different from before and might be something that will alienate me from those who might not understand why some people just need to do things differently.

I am grown up enough to have respect and no animosity for people who are really trying to do things better for themselves and their kin. If they are getting there by righteous means, then, Godspeed. And that is all I have to say about that. Chocolate?

Water on me brain

Flooding, mudslides, and sandbags: it's happening. I thought I heard the wind blowing outside and it turned out to be the not-so-little-anymore creek wrecking havoc a block down the road. It is almost June and there's still shitloads of snow pack up in them thar hills. I couldn't even finish a hike the other day because the bridge across the stream was totally gone. I wasn't in the mood to be swept away or drowned in the torrent so I pussied out and turned back. I have to admit that the raging waters do attract me, much the same way matches did as a child (and still do today, gosh darnit all). Is it normal to get excited over pending natural disasters? I'm weird that way, I guess.

Come Armegeddon, Come!

The obvious choice and a bit on the nose...

Not so obvious, but sets the mood...

The METAL choice...

The Master's choice (courtesy of two of the finest creations)...

I want my humanity back

I am not interested in the forced fitting of my shape into a jello mold.

Teachers, leave those kids alone and their little dogs too.

The bearers of truth are often perceived as villains until time or death softens their blow.

We tend to forget truths if they aren't marketable, useful, or confirming anyway.

The ones who tell the greatest lies often are the ones who talk their way into your bed.

The games that people play on other people rob them of their humanity, hold them hostage in the guise of comfort and security, and get them to foot the bill for the whole merry charade, to boot.

Oh yeah, I want my MTV, not the afterbirth it has become.

Yes, I'm all pissy. What are you gonna do about it?

Happy Five Mayonnaise Day!!!

Yes, it's me, your favorite retard. I've been on some hikes. I've been working on sprinkler systems and cabinets (jerk of all trades/master of nuns). I've been reading a lot. I want to build a little speeder bike out of my dad's '50s era Hiawatha pedal bike and an 80cc, 2-stroke engine--I just need the monies (pronunciation in honor of Cinco de Mayo). I am going to take some online instruction to gain some better computer skills--not the kind that makes me giggle and clap my hands--the work kind. I need to have prospective employers not view me as a leper. Sometimes I get the feeling that, based on my resume, people assume that I run around filthy dirty with a hammer and shovel asking people to tell me what two plus potato is. I know the answer: it's donkey...in pinata form. Happy Cinco de Mayo!

What kind of post would Jebus write?

I've had one of those days where I was given a "helper" to assist me with moving and setting up some new offices. This guy likes to keep asking you what he should do. I then tell him and then he follows up with, "So, I'm supposed to ____, then do this?" My reply was always, "Yes, just like I told you before, so get to it." He would then repeat everything again and then ask me once more if that is what I wanted him to do. I would then tell him to go and do it. He would go away for a bit and then come back and say, either, "Now, you wanted me to do_______, then that?" or "I forgot what you wanted me to do so I did(the thing that I told him I didn't want him to do)."

I felt like I was dealing with another version of the mystery "How many licks does it take to get to the middle of a Tootsie Pop", only mine was, "How many freakin' times do I have to tell this dipshit what to do and how to do it before he actually does it?" I had a feeling that I wasn't given help; rather, I was given a lummox to tend. This guy is my age and married with three kids. I feel for his wife--this example is only a particle of the unbelievable stupidity he is responsible for. On the plus side, when it doesn't effect me, hearing of his mishaps is hi-larious!

I can't wait to blow this joint and go work with the ladies at the nail salon.

No post for you

I lied. Here is your post. I will write more when my brain feels like it.

A figment of the mass imagination

A president or other leader who will save us from ourselves. A pill or program that will keep you from doing what you really want to do anyway. The rich are paying more total taxes than the poor in relation to income earned. That you will someday meet that special someone and never have to worry about love or relationships again. That only belief in something makes it true or right, regardless of facts. That your server is "into" you and not interested in a bigger tip. That you will win the lottery and never have to work at that soul sucking place again (my personal favorite).

I just got tired of thinking. The End!

Omega Bits

It's the official breakfast cereal of the apocalypse. Yum!

I think it was Elanor Roosevelt that said, "It's better to burn out than to fade away." Yum!

What harm is there in wishing that you had the ability to change the color of things at will? It would be a great way to mess with people. Why, I would spend hours at the Wallmart parking lot changing the color of the cars just to amuse myself. You tell me how this could go wrong?

I need a porpoise in life.

Usually, these are the posts that nobody reads, so I just wanted to say that I'm thinking of becoming a Quaker and living on the moon. Someone needs to fulfill insane prophecies and that someone might as well be me.

From Form Morf

Hellellellellelelelelelelelelelelelelelelelello WTF? I'maglitchin'.

Black Guy Please is the politically correct way to say...or, OR, is just how I heard Black Eyed Peas in my head once.

Fungus meat feet.

"Hort!" should be a real word (the exclamation point becomes a letter as well), along with "leotarded".

Sorry, I'm just unable to make any sense tomorrow.

Mulligan.

Sugar plums and the dearly departed...

The past week and a half has been hard for me. My dreams have been filled with my mother and sister, not always in ways that are comforting. The range of positive to heart wrenching dream episodes keeps me wondering what I'm in for each night I go to bed. I know that I am not alone in having these kinds of dreams, either.

On the positive side, I have dreams where I am a kid again and my mother is making me pancakes. This is a sweet, comforting dream. Most of the dreams that I have had of my mother, since she passed away, have been like this. It is hard to wake up from these dreams because it is like finding out that she is gone all over again. One time I was dreaming and she just came into the middle of the dream, saying that "they" were letting her visit me. We both acknowledged that she had died. We held each other and she asked me if I had finished my school work. I replied, "No". She then answered, "Well, you'll do fine. I love you, honey." She then left the dream and I went back to regular scheduled programming. This was a very real thing. I cannot explain it any better than that.

The dreams that I have had about my sister have been emotional and traumatic. There is something strange about how I miss my sister now more than my mother, who, as you know, just passed. She was the one that I really need now in my life. She was my confidant and I don't have her anymore. I want to talk to her about how much I miss mom, which makes me feel just all over alone and lost. Anyway, the dreams I've had of my sister involve cycles of negative images and moments that revolved around the last parts of her life, the heavy shock of her death and the aftershocks of all those moments.

The most recent dream that I had of my sister was just two nights ago. Two men escorted me into her apartment building. I remember feeling afraid. Both of them were holding me by my forearms and took me up the stairs to the fifth floor. I was brought into her apartment, empty now, and left alone. An overwhelming sorrow came over me and the only thing I could do was shout again and again, "YOU'RE DEAD!" That was the dream. I hope there was some purpose in having it, but I don't know. The grieving process isn't cut and dry; it also isn't the same every time.

On a somewhat unrelated note:

I went in to HCI for my cancer checkup on Thursday. My checkup went well and my health was good. Even my weight was about the same, which I thought was great because I swear I gained 80 pounds in the past four months. The hard part was telling my oncologist about my mother--to inform them of family history regarding cancer. She knew my mother and was shocked to hear about it (my mother was with me for most of my treatments). We talked about my mother's final battle with cancer and how it was effecting me. After meeting with a social worker, on my doctor's request, she (my doc) came back and gave me an assignment. The assignment was to find something that brings me joy in life. I thought of calling an escort service and telling them to send Joy over. Ah-har-har. Really, not joking, this thing my doctor did for me was good. I need joy and I need to feel excited about life. They make pills for that sort of thing, I know. But I don't like going to that park anymore. Maybe I need to just go walkabout.

John Wayne Frankenstein

I was watching The Searchers the other day and a thought came to my mind: John Wayne would have been a great Frankenstein. Think about it, he's got the funny walk and makes lots of strange noises around women and fire (I think)--he's tall, too. Does anybody feel me on this?

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday) This video

I'm phoning it in a bit here. The lead singer wants you to know that he's got raging intentions. The rest of the beards are doing their funky white boy best to keep up with him. The synth player wants to eat your hair and skin your mid rift to use it as a cummerbund. Catchy tune, though.

A quick question and a small post about the Holocaust

I still make it a point to reply to most of your comments. Do any of you go back and read them? You know, because I feel that they can be better than my posts. Why? Because they are tailor made just for you, my little Gruntonians.

A few weeks ago, I was at work and talking to a bunch of other guys about stuff and things...and, you know, stuff. Well, one of the younger dudes starts going on about his hurt back and how he needs a massage. I too was hurting a bit and said, "Wouldn't it be nice to have your own Geisha girl?" This dude looks at me with a confused disgust and I asked him what was the matter. He said, "Geisha girls? Weren't they responsible for the Holocaust?"

Byeeeeeee!

Fun with text and Jesus

I'm going to hell now.

TIGF!!! 009 Sound System, better known as Youtube's gayest and most played tune

Really? I have listen to this shit and watch your crappy video too? The worst is when the damn thing is a slide show of some car that an idiot thinks is cool and then thinks, "You know what people would really like? Gay ass techno music with my gay ass slide show!" I declare TIGF!!!, but in a bad way. It has been awhile since TIGF!!! has been declared as such. I hope you are happy now, Youtube.

Bring the love back into cleanin' (a smidgen of TIGFin!!!)

I dare you to do it. Listen to this song while you scrub down your toilet and tell me you don't develop strange and beautiful feelings. Make sure you do it all slow like and get all up in that. Aw yeah!

The Tostada Postada!

Iz just a lazy taco, man.

The Lobster Post

Sorry, I can't. I'm allergic to shellfish.

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): '80s style saxophone solos

There's nothing more gay than a saxophone solo from the '80s. There's nothing more horrible than a saxophone player that is stuck in '80s mode. This kind of saxophone player usually is in late night talk show bands. When a musical guest comes in, the gay '80s style saxophone player gets jealous and wants to throw in fills to show off. This turns what would be a great appearance from a talented group or artist into an episode of "Full House"--iz too many gay, holmes! Paul Schaffer is guilty of this, but he uses synthesizers instead, which actually makes things sound like the Full House theme song. I think that qualifies him as TIGF!!!, but that is for another post.

TIGF!!! It's part of the healing process.

This song was performed at my mother's funeral service on Saturday. It was a beautiful service. Many came to pay their respects. The weather wasn't ideal, but everything went well. I held it together up until my oldest niece and I were talking. I asked her what she was going to name her daughter when she is born; she said that her name would be Lily Marilyn. I was deeply touched by this. I know it's just a middle name, but it just meant so much to me.

Anyway, I also found out yesterday, from a man (he used to be my scout master) who works for the funeral home, that his son was the one who did all of the grave preparations and burial of my mother. I took it upon me to thank his son. After doing so, pretty much all of the emotion that I'd been holding back came flowing out. I don't know why it should be so emotional because the guy got paid. I suppose it is because I know that this kid knew my mother to an extent--having someone that you know do this means a bit more.

Well, I know that you've had to put up with many posts in the last year of me grieving my sister. Now you'll have to put up with my grieving process again. Thanks for sticking with me.

By her side

My mother has passed away. Her passing occurred at 12:25 am, Feb. 16, 2011. My brother Mike and I were by her side as she died. The evening was real hard. Her breathing became strained and erratic. That is when I knew that the dying process had started. The struggle and every desperate breath, flinch, and moan was almost too much for me to bear. I am glad that I did not chicken out, however. Witnessing her breathing go into nothing, her body fall into eternal rest, and her complexion become waxen was an experience that I will never forget. As hard as that was to experience, it was special in only the way that one word can describe: merciful.

This post is coming right after having settled affairs with hospice and the mortuary. I think I needed to write this down before I tried to sleep. I'm feeling a kind of spiritual euphoria right now. I think when I wake up tomorrow I will be fairly spent in all respects and heavy with grief. I just wanted to let you all know that I can still feel her. There is spirit. The afterlife is real. There is no void unless we create it within or choose it for ourselves. My mom is in the best place possible. I'm glad that she made it, finally. These last few days were the nastiest, pain-filled days that she'd ever had. She now rests. I love you, mom! I feel like the luckiest son in the whole world to have had you as my mother. I am proud of you for the way you fought through this horrible disease. I will miss you terribly.

How do you square a circle?

You shove a 4"x4" up a mule's ass.

Just a little frontier humor for ya.

Life is interesting. We'll have to talk about it sometime.

Toodles.

Which way is up?

Lately, I've been taking extra work where I can and my schedule has been all over the place as a result. Some days, I will only work for four hours and another day be working thirteen, mostly being a mover. I have never been in a position to have had much status associated with what I do for a living, so taking scraps isn't a big deal for me. It would be nice to have a job where people would actually not be inclined to disassociate themselves from me for fear of the smell. I get that feeling, like I'm an over the hill actor who's been type cast. Well, I'll have to keep at it and maybe I'll land a better part.

The decision was made last night for my mother to stop treatment. Her oncologist felt that the risk of going through chemotherapy was not worth her quality of life suffering as a result. How long my mother will hang on for is not known.

Well, that pretty much sums up my life at the moment.

Update on my mother

So, the doctors have finally given us their diagnosis: My mom has stage IV lung cancer. This is what I pretty much expected to hear, given how the cancer has spread. As of yet we have not been told whether the doctors feel that she can handle chemotherapy. She has been doing better. She eats more and is able to communicate easier. However, this improvement does not mean that she will live for very long. I will keep on updating you all as I find out more.

Mr. Superior's dissaproval

I once had several blogs when I had a huge creative streak going on. I don't know where those ambitions went. I also had plans to finish story ideas that I had. Working a dead end job and destroying my body for no bloody good reason, it is apparent to me that I did not love myself enough to fight for my dreams--we all now know how well I have been rewarded for being the monkey. I don't know where I let it all go, but the wearing down came. It's funny how people that I spend the most time with can know so little about who I wanted to be. I'm not talking about family, because we all know that we end up spending more time with people at work than with loved ones. Who cares? Some do and then some don't care, I suppose. I shouldn't live my life based on this, but I need approval too, sometimes.

Life is a funny thing. I tried presenting a friend of mine that I work with a creative opportunity--a chance to work on something together just for fun. It all started when he texted me with these funny sayings that were born of his own personal frustrations. Well, me being me, I thought I'd surprise him with a blog based on these texts. The idea was to get him to participate because I thought he would be great. This blog had two posts where I shared his "philosophies" as a misguided pupil, who had a bit of a skewed way about him. This character was based on people that we knew. I thought it would be a good inside joke.

So, I told him about it and he read it. It pretty much got thrown back in my face. I don't know if it was that he saw something about him, via my written perspective, that offended him or didn't like. In some ways, I think it threatened him because he wasn't aware of my writing abilities (in this case "disabilities").

The sense I got was that he felt he no longer had control and now he doesn't talk to me except for anything work related. I don't have time for people that want to pull this kind of shit. I wouldn't have mentioned this if it were an isolated incident with this "friend", but I've tried to do several collaborations with him with music (he's a classically trained violin and guitar player) but I still could not work with him due to his being a control freak.

So, in short, I took an opportunity to share a bit of that "me" with one of those people that did not know my other side. I'm finding out that I have made friends and spend time with people who really don't want to know me. There are those kind of people that feel they know you and that is where it ends, anything else either doesn't interest them or makes them uncomfortable. If you take time to share with them you may find yourself thankful for just a blank stare. Thank God I have still some people in my life that are interested in who I am and finding out more about the person that is me.

Suffers from frequent posting and painful yearnination

So, I've come to find out how unprepared my parents are for their future. Fark. Do your children a huge favor and get insured to the hilt, namely, long-term care, or just move to Canada. My sister from Idaho has been away from her family taking care of my mother's needs, stuff that a son should be spared from doing. Debbie has missed her son's birthday this week and I know that it is wearing on her. It is hard to not get wore down in emotion, something a professional would be better prepared to handle.

Anyway, I have been given a chance to get to know my youngest sister (five years my senior) better. We were closer when we were young, until she became a teen, then after that we haven't been that close. So, getting closer to her has been one of the blessings that has come from this experience.

I was going to take a headboard and foot board to the local Deseret Industries (like Goodwill, etc.). These were going to be a project of my mom's but were in the way of accessing the car in the garage in her wheel chair. I thought it would be good to ask her first if it was okay. She thought about it for awhile and said that she still wanted them. So, I am taking them to their storage unit (which I was trying to get them out of $$$). In a way, this was nice to hear because she is still fighting and hopeful that she has some life ahead of her.

I need to reiterate that while my mother's cancer is ultimately incurable, and if nothing was done would kill her in a matter of weeks or so, she hasn't been told by her doctors that there is nothing that can be done. I don't feel that her doctors would try treating her if it were not worth doing so, if there were no chance of her having more quality time of life. I prepare for two things: her journey out of this world and what kind of needs she will have if the doctors are able to pull off a miracle. I know where the odds are stacked, but we still have yet to be told that there is no hope. Today will be her third radiation treatment; these will continue for another week and a half, then the doctors will be able to see where to go from there.

I've been working on what I call "hope goals". What these are is my way of not overwhelming myself with negativity and focusing on one-little hope that will get me through the day. Right now, my hope and positive energy is being focused on the tumor that is effecting my mom's eye sight and oral functioning. I know that if progress is made in this area that she can communicate a bit better, see her surroundings better, and get to eat more substantially. After that, my energy is focused on her tumor that is causing her pain in her lower back and legs. Morphine sulphate helps there as well, I suppose.

Well, thanks for reading. I really haven't been capable of being all that entertaining lately, with all this emotional heavy lifting going on. I had to get a new picture for my security badge because the old one was faded (yeah, I still have a bit part in the working world--a little more than a walk on). The lady said that I looked serious. Yeah, I do....I am.

Thank you, everyone

I know that internet friendships and acquaintances are not typically as "real" as the 3-D people that we all have in our lives. Still, your comments to my previous post really did mean a lot to me. I've been having an awfully hard time with seeing my mother's health deteriorate. I can honestly say that I am not ready for her to die. It looks like the best my family can hope for in this case is that she can have some more time without pain. The doctors are being really non-committal with their diagnosis. My best notion is that it is lung cancer and that the treatment is mostly being geared to relieving pain and giving her a bit more time. This week and next week will be the litmus test with the radiation treatments to see how the cancer responds.

I was thinking to myself the other day: Why can't my sister, grandma and grandma, just show up in a bus and come and take my mom to Heaven? Well, if we could all choose then we would not know compassion and what it is to truly value life. I struggle a lot now with my religion. More has been demanded of me than what I have felt I can give. I try to participate and I feel inadequate. Whatever the case, I have decided that my loved ones believe in something and I want to be with them. I guess that makes me part of a tribe.

Being part of a tribe is essential to survival. The help that my family has received from their "tribe" during this time has been incredible. When the shit goes down you need a well organized support group. So, my appreciation of my people has been great and has given me things to think about. I'd also like to think that you guys are part of me as well. You make me feel less like just another lunatic with internet access.

From here, I am not sure where things will go. I had a good talk with my mother tonight. What she was able to say was that I was a good man and that I needed to find a good woman. It was nice to hear that my mom is still thinking about my well being, even when she is in the state that she is in. My heart breaks every time I sit next to her and think of what will ultimately happen. I have cried great big floppy tears while giving her hugs and saying "I love you". It makes me even more emotional when I hear her try to say it back, because she sounds kind of like Scooby Doo and I find it cute. When I do get to work it is nice to focus on a project and forget that I am not doing so well, or that I feel alone. It is nice to forget, but it doesn't happen often. It is nice to sleep, but that is hard to come by.

Grace is what we all need. Gimmie some of that, please.

My mom needs your prayers

Hey, I know that death and disease seems to be a common theme with me; I wish they weren't. But I need some favors from you...again. Whatever you got, send it out there to the heavens and ask God to help my mother. She has cancer again. This is the third time that she has had it. It is spreading fast and is in her lungs, liver, and some of her bones. She has a tumor at the base of her skull that has caused significant damage to the point where she is unable to talk or eat properly. To be honest, I think this is it. My family and I are still waiting to find out if her doctors will be able to contain the cancer and give her some more time. If they can't, it looks like this thing will be taking over fairly soon. I just would like to see her enjoy her grandchildren and the great grandchildren some more.

I have to see my losing a good portion of my hours at work as a blessing of sorts. I will be able to spend more time and care for my mom. My emotions are all over the place this week. What can I say? When it rains it friggin' deluges.

Uncle already!