DAMMIT. I have to go back for the SECOND time to that creepy fucking clinic and have wires stuck all over me AGAIN and have some technician monitor me all night so I can spend a thousand fucking dollars on a goddamn machine to help me sleep better.
Or maybe, more pertinently, to make my wife sleep better.
I, of course, won't care if I die in my sleep. I'll be dead. Darkness at the top of the stairs, etc. But my kick-ass wife et al might bum on that, and meanwhile, while I DON'T die in my sleep from Sleep Apnea, my wife wakes up when I start sawing down the rain forest. So fuck it. Hopefully I'll sleep THIS time.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Grass roots and compost
The bus ride this morning WAS a pleasant mood changer in that is was a heartening bit of sunshine that it was as busy as it was. Again, not that I like crowded buses, I'm not a frotteurist, but the possibility that a younger generation might be rejecting the notion that riding in a car is always the best solution.
I recently read, though I can't remember where, that younger people are also less inclined to see cars as status symbols. Of course, both of these things can change as people age, we all get more conservative in some ways as we age. But I'm going to take this as a good sign for the future.
The problem is, most of these same kids didn't vote. I'm not going to rehash Mark Morford's column today because while it does highlight the angry side of my brain today, that side is tired. But the disillusionment of these young voters needs to be addressed. Morford dismisses them all as whiny. Well, maybe true, but they're also young, and so maybe they just don't know any better.
The Tea Party is/was a fake grass roots ('AstroTurf') movement, started the minute a black dude got the White House (or the minute Ron Paul got his feelings hurt by not getting elected POTUS, again, your choice).
What do these kids care about? Where do their self interests lie?
Hopefully, they realize THEY are the 'grandchildren' we are supposed to be worried about in regard to global climate change. They are the ones who will inherit submerged condos and crowded cities of the plains, dust bowls and likely 20+% unemployment in the coming years. They will inherit gravel and dirt roads.
But who am I kidding? It's all happening now. I wouldn't care so much about gravel roads if there was a train network and if locally the State wasn't talking about building I-69 (it costs money- there isn't any). WE are the grand-kids. We are inheriting all these problems. So maybe, aside from the glimmer of hope on the bus this morning, I came to realize that I had more in common with those kids than I previously thought.
I recently read, though I can't remember where, that younger people are also less inclined to see cars as status symbols. Of course, both of these things can change as people age, we all get more conservative in some ways as we age. But I'm going to take this as a good sign for the future.
The problem is, most of these same kids didn't vote. I'm not going to rehash Mark Morford's column today because while it does highlight the angry side of my brain today, that side is tired. But the disillusionment of these young voters needs to be addressed. Morford dismisses them all as whiny. Well, maybe true, but they're also young, and so maybe they just don't know any better.
The Tea Party is/was a fake grass roots ('AstroTurf') movement, started the minute a black dude got the White House (or the minute Ron Paul got his feelings hurt by not getting elected POTUS, again, your choice).
What do these kids care about? Where do their self interests lie?
Hopefully, they realize THEY are the 'grandchildren' we are supposed to be worried about in regard to global climate change. They are the ones who will inherit submerged condos and crowded cities of the plains, dust bowls and likely 20+% unemployment in the coming years. They will inherit gravel and dirt roads.
But who am I kidding? It's all happening now. I wouldn't care so much about gravel roads if there was a train network and if locally the State wasn't talking about building I-69 (it costs money- there isn't any). WE are the grand-kids. We are inheriting all these problems. So maybe, aside from the glimmer of hope on the bus this morning, I came to realize that I had more in common with those kids than I previously thought.
Say what you will about kids these days...
On my morning bus ride today, thinking about what a mess this election turned out to be and thinking about how it is all the fault of the youth of America, a strange dichotomy was made evident.
First of all, 90% or more of the MANY passengers were young. That's good. The two kids next to me were complaining about hating the bus because it is crowded, but the simple fact that young people are making this sensible decision to leave their cars at home (if they have them) and ride is a good sign.
Beyond that, they were all polite and I don'tthink I saw more than 10 people out of 60 or 70 get off without thanking the driver. That was cool.
One of the people who DIDN'T thank the driver was the oldest person on the bus. Admittedly, this lady came off as more bag lady than classy dame. But apparently this lady thought "Get out of the way you brain-dead, I need to get off" is an appropriate substitution for "Excuse me, this is my stop."
Score one for the youth of America.
First of all, 90% or more of the MANY passengers were young. That's good. The two kids next to me were complaining about hating the bus because it is crowded, but the simple fact that young people are making this sensible decision to leave their cars at home (if they have them) and ride is a good sign.
Beyond that, they were all polite and I don'tthink I saw more than 10 people out of 60 or 70 get off without thanking the driver. That was cool.
One of the people who DIDN'T thank the driver was the oldest person on the bus. Admittedly, this lady came off as more bag lady than classy dame. But apparently this lady thought "Get out of the way you brain-dead, I need to get off" is an appropriate substitution for "Excuse me, this is my stop."
Score one for the youth of America.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Men are Predominatly Slackjawed Chickenshits- An Assessment of the 'Yelling Shit While You're Driving Past Phenomena'
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Monday, October 18, 2010
Mompocalypse-Alzheimer's is a bitch, and Death ain't much better
It's been building up to this for some time, but yesterday's attempted visit with mom quickly turned violent. We are setting up a new care plan meeting but our visits only agitate her and she hit both Blythe and I and went of on an obscenity laden tirade. She had to be restrained by staff.
Later that day, 9 Below Zero played at an interesting event for a guy named Bill Niswander. This is a guy who was a fixture around town for many years on the blues and jam scene primarily. I don't really know him or know if we ever played together at a jam or even really met. Recently he received a sudden terminal cancer diagnosis.
Sunday's event at the Player's Pub was both a benefit and an awareness event, but it also served as something of a living wake.
I did not want to go after the scene at the nursing home. But Mom, when she was still REALLY Mom, the person she no longer is, was a firm believer in nothing so much as "the show must go on," and so I put my depression on a back burner and dragged my ass in to Player's. It was pretty full. Bill is obviously a man loved by many people, and if there is any mark of of the worthiness any human being that is it. I got there in time to see quite a bit of Bill playing with David Baas, Cathy Spiaggia, and 9 Below Zero's own Paul "Wine" Karrafa. As they ran through a set of songs by Dylan and the Band, Pure Prairie and others, I was extremely impressed by Mr. Niswander.
Here was a man getting up to play music with his friends for quite possibly the last time. And there were tears in the audience, as any such event combined with booze will do, and who's to say those tears weren't fitting or appropriate? But from the man himself, I felt nothing but calm and dignity, and when he sang happy birthday to his son, who turned thirteen yesterday, a sense of real joy and gratitude tha he'd brought this young man into the word.
Love, dignity, and sharing music. No ego, no self pity, no anger. A mighty lesson; the end comes for all of us one way or another, quickly or prolonged. Love your people while you can, and face the darkness with your head held high.
Later that day, 9 Below Zero played at an interesting event for a guy named Bill Niswander. This is a guy who was a fixture around town for many years on the blues and jam scene primarily. I don't really know him or know if we ever played together at a jam or even really met. Recently he received a sudden terminal cancer diagnosis.
Sunday's event at the Player's Pub was both a benefit and an awareness event, but it also served as something of a living wake.
I did not want to go after the scene at the nursing home. But Mom, when she was still REALLY Mom, the person she no longer is, was a firm believer in nothing so much as "the show must go on," and so I put my depression on a back burner and dragged my ass in to Player's. It was pretty full. Bill is obviously a man loved by many people, and if there is any mark of of the worthiness any human being that is it. I got there in time to see quite a bit of Bill playing with David Baas, Cathy Spiaggia, and 9 Below Zero's own Paul "Wine" Karrafa. As they ran through a set of songs by Dylan and the Band, Pure Prairie and others, I was extremely impressed by Mr. Niswander.
Here was a man getting up to play music with his friends for quite possibly the last time. And there were tears in the audience, as any such event combined with booze will do, and who's to say those tears weren't fitting or appropriate? But from the man himself, I felt nothing but calm and dignity, and when he sang happy birthday to his son, who turned thirteen yesterday, a sense of real joy and gratitude tha he'd brought this young man into the word.
Love, dignity, and sharing music. No ego, no self pity, no anger. A mighty lesson; the end comes for all of us one way or another, quickly or prolonged. Love your people while you can, and face the darkness with your head held high.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Bucha slackjawed freakwits...
...hittin' people on bikes with their goddanged cars lately. This shit will not stand.
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