Choices Again

March 30, 2016

Choices. It always comes down to choices.

Early on in life they are made in our stead. Eventually we make our own, sometimes prematurely, sometimes not soon enough, often to the chagrin of our parents and many more times in silent abnegation, if you had to look that word up, fear not so did I, just so when it popped into my head as an appropriate word, it indeed meant what I thought it might.

No matter the choice there are always consequences, if you have darker tendencies or outcomes, if you are a middle-of-the-roader. I am not quite sure what an optimist’s take on the matter is, as I have never much been one and I do not at the moment have the energy or inclination to search out just what the correct word may be. We just hope that nothing, too serious, comes back to bite us in the ass. As there is no full length mirror in my home I can not easily look and see just how many scars I may have back there. Women, and I do not wish in any way to denigrate, another word I had to look up, any here, might try to pass them off as “stretch marks” but we both, I think, know the truth. It seems to be different for our tongues as I am sure that all those scars are easily camouflaged within the cellular structure, but the fake smiles and lack of words at the time are probably a dead giveaway that the choice of silence over having your head and mouth explode in a serious rant resulting in words that can never be retracted but will probably result in an awkward apology further down the road.




March 30, 2016


I do not use Facebook much anymore, I guess only because the stuff that everyone meaningfully posts is not all that interesting, at least to me, at the time. Every now and then Facebook reminds me of a past event of my own and depending on what it is, or was, and the connections that it still has to my pysche, the memories flood back to that time and place and people I may have been with at that time.

Now four years ago may seem like a long time ago, but in the grand scheme of things, if there truly is a grand scheme, it is only another yesterday in a long string of yesterdays. Yet the memories, emotions and reflections of and on that moment are as fresh as our last breath and do little to assuage whatever regrets we may have about being where we are now in lieu of where we could have been.
If only. Woulda, coulda, shoulda. Oh well, in any case it was one of the best photos of that time and can never come close to describing the life going on behind the camera and it is that that I think of when I see this photo and not the scene itself.

Word of the Day

March 29, 2016


I do not know where ideas come from. Sometimes they are associated with the first emotion upon rising into a new day, the first thought, noticing that the ache with which we went to sleep with last night has not gotten lost in our dreams but sadly has returned to nag for another day. Sometimes louder, sometimes not but nonetheless there.

Usually the definition of the “word” is googled to find if I do indeed have a grasp on the meaning of the word. That learned I then google again to find what other people may have had to say on the subject. To say the least I am surprised how current some of the content can be no matter how dated the quote, yet I think what we ourselves think matters most. Maybe it was the Nora Ephron documentary that I watched last night. And I, at least today, can think of nothing more pressing than the indignity of aging.

We all do it no matter the lengths we may go to give the appearance that time does not affect us. That extra weight that seems to have miraculously appeared due to our being just a little less active than we used to be or that second helping of pie, ahhhh pie, at the holiday table. A pound a year. Elasticity has abandoned our skin. A small wrinkle here, a nest of them there and whole folds of flesh that have glacially moved from one place to collect in another. Hair thins soon to appear in ones and twos in the oddest but most visible parts of the body. And thousands of other little changes over which we have no control. Therein lies the indignity. And soon it will be upon us all. There will be no going gentle into that good night. And you, Kid, get off of my lawn.

Friends of Old

March 27, 2016

Written more than a few years ago and now revisited

They come and they go. Some last from childhood and are sadly around when death comes to claim a weary soul or are they themselves, nevermore. Some never seem to survive the first heartbreak.

Welcome is the return, ever how brief, of a friend whose path has led them away to brighter prospects.
The greeting embrace.
The smiles and exchanges of remembrances.
Connection briefly revived.

Other places to go and people to see.


March 26, 2016

I like words. Every one has its own meaning nevermind the language in which it exists, but it was so hard with my mind running at breakneck speed, hoping that all the thoughts could be transcribed into an utterance. I stood there with my mouth open, watching her walk away, wishing for her to turn and look back one last time on her own. I knew then that the words would never come and that she would never look back. I watched until she was out of sight and beyond the range of my words. “What kind of love doesn’t look back?”, the song lyrics go. I would have done the same, were our situations reversed, yet I have never stopped listening