Total Eclipse of the Fart

I do enjoy coming up with silly post titles.  As you guessed, it's a parody of that Bonnie Tyler song "Total Eclipse of the Heart".  The song is corny as hell, but I think just about everyone has secretly listened to it, sung along with abandon, and then cried like a bitch. Have you seen the video to this song? Holy pancakes! That's some weird-ass shit right there.  Let's see...you've got flying choirboys who's eyeballs are replaced with a demonic glow, homoerotic male prep school scenes, wind where there shouldn't be wind, ninjas, and the woman, who I assume is their teacher, is getting all bothered thinking about it all. The end scene shows the Dean introducing her to her new batch of statutory rape hopefuls. I think that the last thing I would want to hear before I was molested by my teacher is "turn around, bright eyes", 'cause "forever is gonna start tonight".

Opinions?

Happy Birthday to me!

Thanks to Christielli, via another medium, I found out that my birthday is also part of the Fibonacci sequence, which has something to do with the Golden Ratio, which can be used to make spirals, which also describes my life and the aging process. I don't think that referring to my life as a spiral is accurate.  I like thinking that this current day in my life just says that I'm perfectly twisted.

I hope all of you are having great days.

Strange Days

I can't believe the weird things that have been going on.  That's all I have to say.   I hope you all are doing well.  In addition to all the crazy going on in the world, I've had a rather bizarre day.  It must be the drinking water.  Maybe I should start taking acid. I think the world would start making more sense. I'm fine, but just really confused.  If I had the patience, I'd explain everything. Yes, I'm a bit frustrated and confused at the moment, so I'm guessing that after you read this post you will be feeling the same way. 

Here's a tip: whenever life dishes out WTF moments, just say "wheeeeeeeee!"

Bibble Bibble

Rudyard Kipling once wrote....



but now he's dead so now he don't.




How's everybody doing since I've stopped being a good blogger?

Roveewade

A couple of days ago, I was switching out a UPS backup for a computer that runs a standardized test scanner.  The lady that runs the machine was standing by waiting for the machine to power up after I had done this.  I had some guys help me move the workstation and they were just hanging around as well.  This machine was taking its time and I needed to run to the loo real quick like. So, I go and do my business and when I returned one of the guys says, "Hey, did you know when she misses a period that they pay some guy to come out and fix it?"  I couldn't help it. I laughed until I bled internally.  The lady turned bright red from embarrassment and tried to clarify that he was referring to the test forms and not her reproductive system.

Happy Heart Day

I don't know what is wrong with me--why I haven't been posting much.  Whatever it is, it will work itself out eventually.  Then it will work itself back in again and then I will be all distant once more. It's a vicious cycle that probably points to some kind of psychosis.  Whatever, right?  

I just wanted to get all Stevie Wonder on you guys and say I just called to say I love you. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go pick up my meds.

HI!

I'm not dead. I don't even smell bad. Hell, I'm not even afflicted with rigor (subject to change in certain locations).  I've just been really busy doing stuff that isn't all that interesting.  

You weren't expecting anything like "My time in Space Academy" were you?

Jingle Bells

Oh what fun it is to sing a Slayer song tonight!   Go on, I dare you to go next door and start singing "Raining Blood" so loud that you shred your vocal cords. Wheeeeeeeeeee! Seriously, don't do that. Merry Christmas!!!

Sitting on a cornflake...

But the van is nowhere in sight.

Whatever "it" is that I've waited for, to settle all the scores, right the wrongs, and make all my dreams come true, it ain't a coming. Who is this Santa Claus of my life? Answer: God. I've made God into a caricature. I have to conclude that I don't know God well enough. I wouldn't know him enough to pick him out of a crowded room of other gods. What I'm trying to say here is that I need to reboot, repent, and take heed of what's really going on in the universe.  It's me, not you God.  

Well, that's quite the assemblage of profundities, coming from me: a person from such a lowly station in life. God will do whatever it is that God does. I can't stop that.  So if California sinks into the sea, all I will say is "Well, that sucks".  Maybe I have control over the small stuff, the stuff that I'm supposed to not sweat about.  Yea verily, I will have to make my life better myself and not wait around for manna to fall from the heavens. If manna does fall down to me, I will look up and say, without any irony, "thank you".

Tonight I'm starting off fresh. We'll talk this through and see where we go from here, okay? I'm prepared to change and I'll start by not assuming I got you all figured out.  I've certainly a lot of other people telling me stuff about you, like they got keys to your vacation home, or something; maybe they do.  Like I said, I need to pay attention. I've shown up to the restaurant looking for my "blind date" and assumed it was the blond in the booth, when it was the brunette at the window table.

Sometimes I try to avoid being human, or feel like one.  The past five years have taken their toll on me. I've just seen too many inevitable story lines playing out before me and it leaves me depressed. I guess my attempts to minimize the emotional impact of these future events has left me a tad dead inside.  The biggest mistake one can do to their spirit is to deny it humanity.

So my confession to God and man, my great sin: I am a human being.   

Moving on, I've had a couple of weeks to sit on this post.  Parts of it still ring true and others seem to have passed.  From old folklore, you have a character called the "Trickster".  A trickster has been at play in my life, setting traps and playing around with the order of things.  These acts of mischief seem malicious, but looking back, my trickster was trying to get me to pay attention to what really goes on in the world.  I would dwell on the negative aspects of what I saw. This has spun me out many times.

I realize now that I have been given warnings, lessons, and different perspectives of life. I am responsible if I do not take advantage of it all.  I am the one who will suffer if I do nothing. I am able, one way or another, to inflict damage, or to heal myself. One must choose to forgive and love oneself.

It is easy to see how frustration causes a temporary blindness to one's surroundings. Frustration can cause you to not see the forces around you that offer help or cause harm. I have done this frustration thing for too long; however, I know that I will never be without it as long as I live. 

That light cutting through the storm clouds is where I need to set my course. There will be plenty of good and bad to go around, but I can't stop moving.  Destination unknown, possibly, yet I will set sail and see what happens next.

Sounds a little bit like...

Buck

Cluck (The producers told me they'd accept it)

Muck

Stuck 

Shuck

Huck

Yuck

Luck

Duck

Puck

Tuck

Pluck

Meh, I'm still depressed. 

Ray for a day

I was working with an electrician yesterday, hooking up some power to some office cubicles.  The whole time we worked together he kept calling me "Ray", with this thick Mexican accent. He either had me mixed up with someone else, or was trying to mess with me.  You'd think that this would bother me--it didn't.

When someone calls you by the wrong name the first time, you usually correct them, or politely let it slide, only to eventually correct them the second or third time.  I corrected this gentleman today and he got upset that I let him carry on calling me Ray.  When asked why I did, I said, "Because I thought it was funny". After that, he pronounced my real name with a hard emphasis on the "tt".  If you know my last name, you'd figure out fast why "Ray", "Joe", or "Jack" would make for a hilarious first/last name combo.

Even though this guy was either pissed at me, or faking like he was pissed to further mess with me, I like working with the old guy.  I wonder what would happen if I started calling him Cheech? Something tells me he would probably like it.  I don't think Human Resources would like it as much. Hmmm.  Maybe I should just tell the director of HR to donate her knickers to the Boy Scouts--knots and such. Boy, that'd be swell.  Um, where was I? Oh yes, being Ray for a day was fun. The End!

PS. If you think I am bad, I know of someone who took two whole years to tell someone that his name wasn't Steve.

PSS. If you are wondering why this post ended the way it did, well, I'm garsh dern tarred. The End.

Where rocks call home

A week ago I went on a day trip to the lovely state of "Potatoho" with my dad and brother. It was to a place that my father had always wished to visit, being a rock climber in his younger years, but never did. My father's advanced age keeps him from enjoying many things.  Without mom around, it's up to his boys to get him out and have an adventure. I got to use an sweet Nikon to take some shots. I took so many shots, but these several I thought would make for a succinct post. There is so much more to this place; here is a taste.

I still can't believe that I took this shot.  I can't take credit for creating the landscape, the weather, and the lighting, but I sure as hell know where to stand, point the camera, and shoot.

I had to get one awkward self portrait of myself to prove that I was there.  Since then, I cut my hair and joined a cult--it was that powerful a place.  Well, it wouldn't be the first time that happened, a-tee-hee!

Pioneers be taggin' this shit.

One of the many things to look forward to after the "harvest" of man: views unobstructed by modern civilization.

Fifty miles to the horizon and thirty to Highway 81, via dirt roads.  You don't have to go this way, but where else are you going to see such beautiful nothingness?

I've done a couple of awesome hikes as well that I will post about in the future. Make sure to click on the photos to enlarge them.

What?

This is weird. I don't remember having a blog.  I guess I really did hit the pipe a bit hard this last month.

Really, though, I have been sick and other things.  I returned to the mountains this last weekend and got my butt kicked.  It is hard to get back what you lost.  

It is hard to get back what you lost.


P.S. Vera, I hope your arm gets better soon!

Aqueduct Adventure

I went on this hike two weeks ago.  I was interested in fully exploring an old aqueduct that I had hiked up to fifteen years ago.  This time it was a bit easier, since there was a trail leading up to the site and the brush was cleared by someone, well, some of the way at least.

This is the point where the old aqueduct would head out of the canyon and down to the valley to meet the irrigation needs of the settlers.  I reached this point by hiking over the shoulder of the hill from the valley floor below. It is quite a hike just to get to this point, but this wasn't a big deal for me.

As you can see, I still have a lot of hiking to do.  On the left, you can see the canyon road that leads up to some radar towers. This road used to be really busy with outdoor recreation, until it was closed down due to a landslide.

These little guys were sticking up everywhere. I think they look like mushrooms. 

Of course, what I was seeing were the steel bands left over from the pipeline.  The aqueduct's pipe was constructed of wood strips banded together with thousands of these pieces that you see here.  The bands and accompanying hardware are still all over the place, stretching nearly two-miles.  Almost all of the wood had either been destroyed by fires, or rotted away.

These bands tripped me up quite often.  I had several occasions where I was nearly gouged. Fun!

This large elbow was of such size that I could hide a dead body in it. I sometimes wonder why my mind works the way it does.  Hmm.

There were some cool outcroppings along the way. This was about where I had to start bushwhacking to get to the final third of the aqueduct and to the gates.

As I got closer to the gates, I found a peculiar object on the ground. Having to look where I had to put my feet paid off.

I cleaned off the object to find out that it was a stop watch of some sort.  I could make out that it was made in Germany and that the dial went to 30. The dial read "Mills". I want to find out what in the hell that's about. Anybody got a clue?

Anyway, the body is silver plated and the needle was rusted off. I'm guessing that it is rather old, but not older than a hundred years. I still am too afraid to open it up, for fear of launching a bunch of springs and gears all over the place.

Here are the gates.  Not much to look at, but not many people, I would gather, have been up here in the last 40 years. I have always been curious about what things the old timers did and how in the hell they built/got all this crap up here. 

I forgot my WD-40. Damn.

Instead of coming back the way I came, I hiked down to the creek and up the north side of the canyon to a good trail.  I knew I was getting close to the road when I saw the "Satanists" cave.  This is a good place to get loaded and set shit on fire, btw.

I promise

That I will post something soon.  I know you all can't live your lives without me. Yep.

Phew!

This blogging thing is hard. Boy, I'm going to have to hire an assistant or something.  Or maybe I'm going to need to do something besides eat, work, shit.  I get a shower in there; I'm not a freakin' ape, ya know.  If I were an ape, this would be some miraculous shit right now, blogging.  Certainly, if an ape was able to blog, it would be fascinating.  If I woke up in the morning to find myself transformed into an ape, I'd be scared. Eventually, I'd feel pretty awesome and go to the store for a banana run.  I could work as a body guard or night club bouncer. I would then pay my way to through law school and represent animal actors.

There, I've finally got my five-year plan!

Post Tittle

I can't think of anything interesting to post.  This blog is running on fumes.  I guess that means that I'm running on fumes. It isn't for a lack of interesting things that I've done or seen, or smelt.  I guess it just means that I feel like I'm old news, tired, whatever.  Poor me.

I love all my current bloggies.  I do, however, miss having certain old blog friends come around.  It's the nature of the blogosphere, I suppose. I miss the golden years of this blog.  There was a time before: when I didn't have cancer, family members weren't dead, and I still looked young.  That time of blogging was rather fun for me.  I would do off the wall posts, show passion, or go on a rant.   That was a time of having crushes on pixelated expressions of other people and their ideas. I think I'm in it now for the companionship.  Blogging is just like a marriage when it gets old--do it twice a month and on holidays. 

I guess I'm just feeling a bit down at the moment.  I'll get over it.

Any of you have a "Grunt" moment from this blog that brings a smile to your face? I'd like to hear about it.

Revelations

I just realized that I don't give a hoot anymore.

I just realized that saying "I don't give a hoot anymore" sounds gay.

I just realized that sounding "gay" is all right, especially when I am all alone in my room.

I just realized that "sounding gay" while being "all alone in my room" is gay.

I just realized that my obsessing over sounding gay, or where I sound like it, is pointless.

I just realized that observing my pointless observances is pointless, so I give up.

I just realized that by giving up I am only giving in to apathy.

I just realized that the only way to overcome apathy is to take a stronger stance on my positions.

I just realized that I don't give a shit anymore.

ApheIchthyophobia

When I was in the first grade, the class had a small aquarium full of guppies.  At the end of the school year our teacher let us take some home.  I remember being thrilled to have my own pets, not shared pets like our two dogs.  My mother got a small aquarium from somewhere. It couldn't have been new because of ongoing financial issues from my dad being in and out of work. I digress and digest: it's called multitasking, folks. So we got a glass box, full of water and colorful rocks, to throw live animals in. Yep, my Lite Brite didn't stand a chance.

I was no good at cleaning the tank and dealing with the dead, but I was sure as hell good at feeding the damn things.  For some reason, these fish started leaping out of the tank. It scared the Jesus out of me.  Bejesus was still safely inside, awaiting for that encounter in third grade with the hobos in Woodland Park. I know my brother and sisters were getting fed up with taking care of my pets; eventually, the responsibility of taking care of these fish on my own would be unavoidable. 

So one day I come home from my friend's house to see a couple of fish flopping around on the floor. I tried real hard to get them into the net, but I couldn't. I tried grabbing them with my hands, but something about the struggle and the fish moving around made me lose my shit entirely. I ran into my room screaming and didn't come out until my mother got home. So, dead fish on the floor and me having emotional problems, my mom took care of the dead fish and then "suggested" that the older kids have fish as pets.  

To this day I still have to fight not "losing my shit" when having to handle live fish. I don't care to touch dead fish, either. I do it when I absolutely have to, but I usually let someone else handle them.  I think I can live with that.

Short stuff

I'm keeping it brief tonight. If I kept it boxers, that would be silly. I found my way back into the mountains again. I am enjoying that. Waterfalls are now my thing, so the mines and ruins are off to the side for now. This evening's hike had me wondering what dogs could tell me, if they could talk, about my crotch. Pretty much all of the people with dogs on the trail had to pull their pooches off of smelling my nads. As far as I can tell, they're just plain nuts.

I've been doing more work at a storage unit that my family shares. The goal is to get people their stuff, throwaway a bunch of crap, and get the hell out of there by the end of July. I found a couple of boxes of my old hobbies, mainly radio controlled cars. I was the first kid in my neighborhood to get into building these things. When the other kids got into it, I ended up helping them build theirs and repairing them. Anyway, I decided to see if any of this old stuff was worth anything. Most of it isn't worth much more than fun memories, but there are some items that could fetch some nice dough.

One of the items is an old scale model, radio-controlled truck that was mostly metal and engineered unusually well. I bought this truck second hand from a hobby shop back when I was doing a paper route in seventh grade. It was old then, but it had a certain charm about it. I was going to buy a new car to have as a project, but I bought this truck instead. I never could find the parts that I needed, back then, to fix it up, so I boxed it and forgot about it. I grew out of that hobby as I got my license. Now, I am revisiting that time in my life.

This truck turned out to be a "holy grail" of scale model radio controlled cars. So I've begun sourcing the parts I need on Ebay (something the thirteen-year-old me never could have dreamed of). This little Toyota truck is going to get fixed up and then sold. It will have a new home of some man that wants to capture a part of his childhood in amber. It isn't my thing anymore. I believe that it was my job to obtain it, be the caretaker, and now the restorer of it. The joy I will get is finding ways to spend the money from selling it.

Is that all? Yeah, for now. Toodles!