Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Letter to my son--1988

When my son was a child, I kept a journal of letters addressed to him. Here is one of them.

Dear Googy,
     This I promise you: You are a lot better off that I didn't have you while in my twenties or thirties. So the times you find yourself wishing I was younger, bite your mind's tongue and wince back to reality.
     The trouble is, there are so many concepts a man has to learn to internalize before he becomes a valuable, valued person. Basic concepts. Reasonable concepts such as flexibility, sensitivity, equality, gentleness, compassion, and honesty. Feelings that should have been nurtured throughout his childhood but are usually ignored by unqualified, old-world parenting.
     Isn't it interesting that a greater percentage of women possess those qualities. What have parents done to their sons? It's paradoxical that in their misguided efforts, throughout history, to afford every advantage to their sons, expect more from their sons, and respect their sons more, parents have created infantile, macho-monsters of entrenched, well-defended proportions. FA's (my coined acronym for Fractional Adults) who will rarely become valuable people.
     All the divorces and all the king's men, can't make a FA a good person again. Try as they might to cavort and control, sadly a fraction will never be whole. Don't FA sake me, oh my darling.
Love, Dad.
Therapist on the FAringe.
P.S.
    FA jokes:
1. What is it called when a FA abuses his wife and children?    FA pete's sake!
2. What is it called when a FA is self-centered, arrogant, obnoxious, and insensitive? FAmiliar!
3. What is it called when a FA realizes that you have needs separate from his?  FAfetched!
4. Why shouldn't FAs risk playing golf? They are already too handicapped!
5. What did the Jewish therapist say to the FA? FAfahlen. (Yiddish for: it's too late), I think.







Saturday, November 27, 2010

Adjusting to Retirement,or -- Am I Still a Turkey?

The Saturday after black Friday always seems to feel like a Sunday. When Sunday actually arrives, it feels like a bonus, until evening, when the reality of Monday morning creeps into my consciousness, and then, later, causes nightmares.
I'm retired now. I wonder how long it will take for Sunday evenings to no longer precipitate anxiety?



Friday, November 26, 2010

Limerick

Since I'm one part fool, one part asshole, have obscene fantasies, and share a name with the person who popularized limericks (Edward Lear in the 19th century), they have become one of my favorite forms of expression. Here's today's:

I once knew a young man named Nat,
Who read poems whenever he shat.
If he didn't read verse,
his shit smelled much worse,
and his family couldn't deal with that.

Happy black Friday!

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Today is "Celebrate Your Unique Talent Day."

I'm excellent at, and obsessed with, blowing smoke-rings. Can send one through another, or punch out a dozen small ones in succession, etc. Big downside: it works best when you don't inhale!

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

PET PEEVES

Just a couple today, for flag wavers and footballs fans.
1. Vietnam rhymes with psalm, not jam.
2. I failed high school french once, but . . . shouldn't Favre be pronounced FAHV, not FARV?

Letter to Daughter -- 1990

As I did with my son, I kept a journal of letters addressed to my daughter starting when she was one year old. Her nickname is Gloopy.
It was always a challenge to put Gloopy down for a nap. She'd twist and squirm and chomp on her "Nuk" like there was no tomorrow. Perhaps she knew--an infantile premonition.
I'd pace from one wall to another, with Gloopy in my arms, as if her room was a cell, eventually estimating the width expertly, even with my eyes closed, and never once banged my nose on a wall. The curtains in her bedroom depicted dinosaurs. They inspired this letter to her.

Dear Gloopy,
Your curtains. There they hung, rippling in the breeze. Seven 'saurs on a white background in a repeating, pastel-colored pattern. The Allosaurus, the Brontosaurus, the Brachiosaurus, the Megalosaurus, the Stegasaurus, the Triceratops, and of course the king of the 'saurs, Sir-saur himself, Tyranosaurus Rex.
I wondered, as I paced the floor, while rocking you to sleep for the umpteenth time, that likely, sooner or later, in the greater scheme of things, it will be curtains for us, too!
Evolution of a,
Daddy






Sunday, November 21, 2010

Letter To Son--1988

When my son was a child, I kept a journal of letters addressed to him. Here is one:

Dear Googy,
                 The other night, while lying beside you in our usual night-night routine (hug-bug-rugs, kissi-kissos, a song and a story) I fell asleep and dreamed we were walking down a narrow, dark corridor, hand-in-hand. With each step, I began to shrivel and shrink just like in a horror-movie special effect. Older and older I became, smaller and smaller.
                 Nearing the end of the corridor, I saw two paths materialize before us with a mirror between them.  In the dim light, I could see myself stooped, shrunken and wrinkled. Taken aback, I looked up to see that you had grown tall and straight and true, and your eyes sparkled with a wisdom that belied your age. I felt warm and content as we parted to pursue our separate destinies.
                 I awoke with such a feeling of connectedness that I couldn't leave you, so I spent the rest of the night in your bed, cuddled together like spoons.
                 Love,
                 Dad





Thursday, November 18, 2010

Just a Little Bloggee . . . On the Lone Prairie

I'll be the first to admit, mine is a very, very . . . plain author's blog. Check out some others, and see for yourself. They're colorful, filled with relevant links, on-point advice for writers, current and pertinent articles for writers, schedules of courses and seminars for writers, live forums for writers, interviews with successful writers, industry news, and advertisements aimed at writers: SELF-PUBLISH YOUR BOOK HERE! QUERY HELP THERE!
They are . . . mature, market-savvy, author web/blog sites each with their own url to boot. And there are loads of them.

I'm just a little Bloggee, still crawling around blogspot.com in my diapers, leaving trails of loose shit daily, just learning the language. And I need a lot of naps, so it will be a slow maturing process, years maybe, because I suck at marketing, and because I'm colicky, contentious and cynical, and resist joining the raging machine that is our system. I don't want to grow up. You grow up. Find your own links.

I mock those folks with the fancy author sites, but I can't fault them. They might succeed whereas I will likely fail. And anyway, I day-trade, so who am I to stick my nose in the air?

For all you constipated folks, drown your envy in FIBER, while I just keep shitting daily.
Write on.










Guinness Book of World Records Day!

Today is Guinness Book of World Records Day. In 1996, my son Adam and I set a new world record for keeping a top spinning, untouched after the initial spin, using my invention, TOP-NO-SIS. Our record was 2 hours 0 minutes and 54 seconds, at which point we stopped intentionally. Guinness accepted the record but didn't print it.
In 1998, a young boy from Georgia beat our record by keeping his top(also a TOP-NO-SIS toy) spinning for 2 hours, 52 minutes, and 11 seconds. He was listed as a world record holder on Guinness's website for a couple of years.
A few years later, Guinness eliminated the category(no touching after the initial spin), saying it was too specific, and started allowing the spinning top to be touched in various ways(feather, stick etc.) in order to keep it spinning.
So, the current world record for duration of top spinning is now a wee bit over seven hours. It is held by the talented but obsessed man who owns the record for the most Guinness world records! He used an implement to keep hitting his top to feed it energy, and I believe Guinness manipulated this entire category scenario to help promote themselves through their favorite record holder.
Using my TOP-NO-SIS toy, a skilled person can keep the LSX top spinning for a lifetime, untouched! Literally. But I've had it with Guinness, will not try to break the current record, and I still advertise my invention as the longest spinning top in the world(untouched after the initial spin). Fuck Guinness.


Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Another short arbitrarily chosen passage from "The Zedland Chronicles/Orphan Running."

     Cala held up the pipe. “One more toast before we move on,” she insisted. “To Zhiaban, our friend and benefactor. Mysterious and aloof, yet kind and generous. Unbelievable, yet real.”
     “Zhiaban, Zhiaban, Zhiaban, Zhiaban,” everyone chanted, and the pipe was passed around.
     “I miss Fez already,” Sani said, as they resumed their trek.
     “Me, too," Zed replied, "but the trip would’ve been too much for him, and we couldn’t have left him in safer circumstances.”
     “It was really hard for you to leave him, wasn’t it?”
     “Yes. I struggled with it monumentally from the moment I decided to seek the Samoo. Zhiaban’s words convinced me that I must do it in order to be fully healed. Remember how you noticed my demeanor change after I walked into the shadow? But when we had Fez, unresolved issues resurfaced, and I’ve been over-parenting, Zhiaban called it. I try too hard.”
     “Which is why I worry when you fantasize about universal peace.”
     “So, you agree that I try too hard?”
     Sani thought for a while. “Remember a long time ago when you asked me if I thought Zhiaban was manipulating our lives, and I said even if it was true I could live with her kind of influence. Well, I love the way you relate to Fez. You can be proud of the role model you present to him. You don’t smother him—you’re simply there for him all the time. I would’ve mentioned it to you if I thought you were overwhelming him. Though your parenting may spring from unresolved childhood trauma, you’re warm and tender and constant for Fez. He’s fine. The issues are yours alone. Perhaps Zhiaban is right. For you, this separation from Fez could be the final leg of your healing journey, like walking into the shadow was the beginning.”
     “And you’re a constant for me, Sani.”





Monday, November 15, 2010

Today is "America Recycles Day"

Separate the colored g(c)lass. Sounds racist to me.
Instead, recycle attitudes. Recycle pre-conceived notions. Recycle outdated laws.
Recycle rednecks. Recycle SUV's. Recycle pedophiles. Recycle politicians.
Recycle proselytizers. Recycle the FBI. (FIB?). Recycle bigots. Recycle fundamentalists. Recycle violence.
Recycle WMD's. Recycle CEO's who finagle outrageous bonuses.
Recycle wealth. Etc.

I wonder how much money each family would end up with if all the wealth in the nation was actually divided equally? Where's the fulcrum? The tipping point? Who gets and who gives? Has anyone ever done the math? I'm thinking a lot of folks would be pleasantly surprised. I mean, one dude gives up a friggin' Picasso and a hundred people live happily ever after!
PROGRESS!





Sunday, November 14, 2010

TWITTER ILLITERATE -- HELP!

Paula Poundstone just started following me on Twitter! WTF? For a split second, I got excited. Then I realized that she follows 24,437 tweeters. If each of the folks she follows tweeted only once a day, and it took only 5 seconds to read each tweet, that would amount to 122,185 seconds=2036 minutes=34 hours! So, I wonder how much of a staff she employs to handle her twitter account?

It seems clear that she has ulterior motives:
1. To steal one-liners from witty tweeters?
2. To artificially inflate her follower numbers?
3. She's undercover CIA?

In the final analysis, I better not hold my breath for a reply from Paula to any of my witty tweets, or for her to even retweet any of my one-liners to her followers. (That would be cool).

Also, I discovered that I have two people following me who have never tweeted, yet they each have hundreds of people following them!  Why? There is no info in their profiles beyond their user names. How can someone who has never tweeted and has no bio info garnish 348 followers? It seems clear that they have an ulterior motive:
1. The two of them are phony tweeters--CIA, FBI, Homeland Security-- eavesdropping on ex-radicals?
    The most radical thing I've done in the past 35 years is try pumpkin/rhubarb pie.

If anyone has an opinion regarding any of my concerns, would you please let me know. Thanks.