All But Six

 This was an inevitability. So while I hope no one who's read any of what's come before from me isn't surprised by the difference in tone, I won't apologize. Similarly, there's no caveat going in this time. You're here and you're reading, so I hope you'll follow this through to the end. And that is exactly what this is: finality.

Over the last year, like everyone, I've seen a lot. Little of it has been anything I wanted to see. But it's also thrown a few things into sharp focus. Chief among these is the fact that I don't make sense in a world I can't understand. I am quite literally from another century and the things I was taught just aren't valid in the new millennium. This is a part of the natural process of aging. There comes a time when assimilation loses any appeal. When I was younger it was considered rude to hang up the phone without saying goodbye. Now it's just the way things are done. Or not done, depending upon how one feels. 

But this isn't bad. Because the world is moving in a direction I can't understand is simply an organic process. Who knows? Maybe things can unfuck themselves. It's nice to think that centuries and centuries of racism and inequality may be dismantled and that everyone can have a chance at a decent life. Don't know if that will happen before I shuffle off this mortal coil, but it sure as hell would be great. 

No, it's time for me to finally become less outspoken about things, to let my carping and whining be kept to myself. For all that I've spoken and written about it, I'm finally embracing my invisibility. Having a life, even in a small way, in the public eye was a trip. To be a shy kid who gains some acclaim and a place in my community was an absolute gift. No matter what that became, there was a time it was very nice to have respect. 

For all I've mentioned here and elsewhere about vanity, this is the last time I trot mine out in public. I can't let go of the values that have taken me this far and they are at absolute odds with how things are now. No one needs to hear or read about the plight of an old guy who doesn't fit in. Because it isn't plight. I could choose to be a part of life's tapestry. I could make an effort to have a relationship or put my art out there. At the end of the day, it's my choice to carry on the way I have. It's what I know, yes, but it's what feels right. Does it matter that people don't feel for me what I feel for them? It does to me, but in the bigger picture? Nope. Not even a little. 

It's been a hoot to vent, cogitate and ruminate here. If anyone wants to reach out, I'm pretty easy to find. The trend seems to be that people just don't. Sometimes they'll reply if I contact them, but it happens less and less. This is good. It means people have lives and they're putting their energy into their own pursuits. Of course for me it also means that I'm not a part of those adventures anymore. 

So it's back to creating art, searching for meaning, trying to do good but keeping out of people's way as I do. Thank you to everyone who's stopped by here to read any of these posts, who's visited me when I was active on social media, who's sought me out for reasons that don't involve hurling invectives. It's been a great ride and I am grateful. 

What's the title of this piece mean? It's part of something my dad used to say: "Fuck 'em all but six, and let them be my pallbearers." How ironic that nine months after the man died, we still haven't been able to have a funeral. 

Take care out there and try to be a decent person. When it all comes down to it, those are still the best choices.

See ya.

An Absolute Lack of Perspective/Swimming in the Subjective

Again, I start with the caveats: this may never go anywhere and I can't reply to comments made on this latest version of Blogger. That written, I'm just diving in this time. 

Like a lot of people who are aging, there is less and less I see in the world that I recognize. This is an across the board thing. Conventions, behaviors, linguistic traits and most of all it's apparent in the ways we treat each other. Bereft of so much people used to do for fun and distraction, there are so many shifts in how we see. Central to this, if you'll pardon the expression is how we are seeing ourselves and the importance we place on our individual circumstances. 

Years ago when people stopped saying goodbye at the end of a phone call, it rankled. It utterly perplexed me. Two syllables. Even just one. Yet, this had become too much. Unimportant. It isn't that I'm comfortable with it now, but I accept that it's the new norm. 

When 17 new pronouns appeared in the English language, I absolutely understood their significance but I could not assimilate them. Consequently, even though I saw it coming for decades, I am having a very hard time with they and them being used to represent an individual. 

Such is life. Not good. Not bad. It just... is. It's more important for the current generation and those that follow to know how to navigate the world. People like me have less and less place in it, so I don't expect my values to carry forward. As much as I've been an anachronism, I am fast becoming obsolete. There is still some I can contribute, and I'm glad for that, but I know it's diminishing. 

I'm not sentimental about this. I'm certainly not morose. 

So it's not likely a surprise that my existence turns more and more inward. I interact less with everyone around me. My yearning for anything social, in real life or online, diminishes. I was invisible before I wore a mask. If I hear my name spoken aloud twice in a month it's an absolute fluke. I don't have any expectation for it but it's nothing I imagined would happen. 

Of course the flip-side of that is how many lovely and wonderful things that have happened that I could never have anticipated. Not the massive ones nor the silly little ones. Hell, I never could have predicted I would live this long. 

Then why does it drive me crazy that everyone is so self-involved? It isn't that I'm waiting for the next Mother Teresa or Buddha. But in a time when so many people are suffering, enough self-awareness to step outside of our individual situations and check on those around us. 

Mind you, I'm not elevating myself in this context. I reached out to friends and family for the first four months of lockdown, but since March I can count on one hand with fingers left over the number of people who have done the same. At least until my father died in July. 

This wasn't really a blindsiding event. Those of us who had seen him over the last years saw a decline on many levels. The man who had joked for so long about living to 120 intimated more and more that he had made his peace with what he knew was coming. But that doesn't mean everyone knew it and even some who were told it was coming didn't take the caution to heart. So there was a wave of people who needed to talk and be heard, and I was happy to be someone who did. I am honored to have been that. 

Consequently there was a definite point when I just pulled into myself, when I stopped making the calls or sending the emails or texts. I just couldn't read any more posts about how hard it was not to be able to get a haircut or that it was just so strange to wear sweats or pajamas all the time. I do have empathy for people. I really do. But the first thing I thought when the realities of COVID-19 began to emerge was what the hell are the homeless going to do? 6 months in and I still haven't heard anyone talking about this. 

As someone who chose a solitary way, my life hasn't changed in the way most people's have. But that does give me a slightly different perspective on things. The realities of being denied luxury and convenience have their impact. We feel these emotionally, intellectually and psychologically. A part of this is the inclination to pull in, to simmer in our subjectivity. This is even the case when hearing about what is going on around us. But the desire to be acknowledged, just to be asked how we are or to know someone is thinking about us, is huge. 

It's expecting that to happen when we aren't willing to take that step that creates the ethical friction for me. It's another form of entitlement. And it can be sidestepped by simply stopping for a few seconds and realizing that we all have the power to reach out, to give someone the feelings we so desperately crave. It's not hard. It really isn't. But it does require subverting our self-pity long enough to text, call or email. Even though the postal system is completely overloaded, we can still send cards or letters. 

My equilibrium will return. The fire raging on the mountain will run its course. The grieving will start to make their peace. I'll go back to reaching out. I may even pop back up on social media. But until then, I hope people can stop feeling sorry for themselves, driving like they're insane or choosing to and act solipsistically. Or at least take a step back and maybe think that others are going through what they are. Some are going through much more.

It's All Relative. Except When It Isn't.

I've written about empathy and compassion, about how they're seen as outdated in the same way many of my core beliefs are. But I want to revisit these aspects of cognition for just a moment as this may be more than a little ironic.

Having distanced myself from most social media, I only really only get the barest of it these days but seeing the reactions of people having to stay home has been something for me. Everything from boredom to borderline mania with a lot in between has popped up in my feed a lot. People who have never dealt with it before are now staring depression square in the face. Having to confront all those things pushed to the back of the brain pan must be powerfully unsettling for those who never have chosen to deal with them.

And I bring it up because the reaction seems all but inevitably to voice even more the 'woe is me' sentiment rather than to simply look at all the people who have been dealing with the ghosts and demons and take the opportunity to reach out in support or solidarity. But no, instead of this being a time and a chance to find how much more we all have in common, I'm seeing even more separation and hearing louder whining. Yes, I realize I grew up in another century but when did the paradigm switch so far from "help one's fellow humans" to "my problems are so serious, you guys"? I won't say I'm not cynical and there won't come a day I describe myself as a Samaritan, but of all the time for people to choose superficiality, this one surprises me.

With all the means of communication and connectivity at our disposal, the one thing I've noticed is that people stopped reaching out to me when lockdown/quarantine began. Some return my communications (and I love those of you who have!), but fewer and fewer do. This is not me blaming anyone as a populace has to face things it never did and most know I'm just fine on my own, but it does mean my isolation is a bit more profound. Luckily, I have music and writing to see me through and the view from my window is always breathtaking.

As usual, I am not trying to draw conclusions or offer up solutions so much as just ruminating and meandering, so thank you for coming along for the non-journey. Next time I'll see if I can't maybe actually write something cohesive and more fun to read.

Oh! One quick caveat: this latest iteration of Blogger doesn't allow me to reply to comments. But please know that I read them all and thank anyone who's taking the time to pore over what I e-scrawl here!

Strange Reflections

In a time of uncertainly, I think a certain amount of introspection and reminiscence is inevitable. It happens to most of us at weddings and funerals, reunions and driving past old haunts. So with the entire world on hold, we're all looking inward more than usual. What does that mean for your humble narrator? Why, more blather! So yes, here's your window of opportunity: flee if you want not to be stuck in the mire of my grey matter.

The day to day of my life hasn't changed much, other than my no longer needing to use an alarm clock. No one knocks on the door now, but occasionally someone yells from outside the window. Far fewer flatlanders walking the street or parking in the driveway. Some loss of appetite, but that works better for rationing anyway.

If things are not so changed, upon what am I reflecting?

Just going deeper down that rabbit hole of 'having passed the half century mark' really. When I look in the mirror, no matter what is going on otherwise, I see a man. No really physical traces left of the boy I've known for so long. The shape of face and frame seem to rearrange themselves regardless of what I think or want. Even the line of my jaw is different.

But as I watch the ways people interact, as language's structure metamorphoses on a daily basis, I have so much more empathy for those folks I looked at perplexed when I was a boy. The world has to change, but there's a point at which we no longer want to as well. Some of us. I see a lot of people that are good going along with the ride and I salute them from my small kingdom of Anachronism.

No for me this is a time to look at the dreams of my youth, the aspirations of my earlier adulthood and the contributions I may or may not have made to the world. If this is a time of stasis, am I okay putting things on hold?

Nope. There's still too much to do. There's a book to finish. Music to create. Friends who need to hear that I love them and family living with uncertainty. Smiles are in short supply everywhere and even the weather seems to have gone wacky. Some of us seem to be dealing with anxiety while others are struggling with boredom. Forced to keep distant from one another, it's now becoming apparent to many that things like hugs and handshakes are often taken for granted.

It isn't surprising that a bunch of people I know have reached out to me lately to get advice on how to cope. And one sent me an article to a man who's been living alone as long as I've been alive. What's interesting to me is that he and I have developed a lot of the same skills to stay sane and functioning: having a routine, keep track of something, do things that make you feel good, challenge yourself.

Most important is realizing that even being isolated, none of us is really alone. I stopped engaging in social activities because I realized my expectations were high, that what others wanted of me was not what I could do or be. But most who are now homebound are not there by choice and are starting to feel those things that they generally only have to deal with when sick for a protracted time. But this is a great time to text silly things, to reach out to friends and let them know you're thinking of them, to do what you can to support one another.

It is not the time to mindlessly panic and raise everyone's anxiety. The ambient dread and uncertainty are high right now, but the reality is that we have no idea vat's ahead. Given that and since we're all knuckling down already, why not try and put more positive out there? While I have always be a 'love is all you need' kind of guy, this is a time for some of it. It's easy to give in to doubt, worry and fear. Now is the time to be there for one another in all the ways we can, even if we can't hug.

Uncertainties. Great, Small and Otherwise.

I've made no bones of the fact that I'm at odds with the world. This has never been more clear than in the last weeks. While I make no claim at understanding things, I'm very clear there is much I don't grasp. So bearing that in mind, here is your chance to check out before I start blathering.

For anyone who's still here, hi!

This is not a soapbox for me to complain. Not this time. I don't want to whine or go on about about my nature or a lot of the things I typically address here. There is already so much negativity that a recluse carping about the way things aren't or should be is just heaping dung on offal.

So instead I just want to put out a wish that we can stop inducing panic for a bit.

We live in a time where perspective may be more rare than platinum. Reason has given way to simply following big, shiny exciting things. We've become reactive creatures that don't really process stimulus beyond our reflex response. We parrot what we see and hear but rarely think about it in between.

This is not me trying to downplay a pandemic. Of course we need to be cautious and vigilant.

At the same time, we have no idea of how things will play out. How many predictive models have been put forth? How accurate are they?

Again, this isn't about science so I apologize if my language is trite. I'm not a scientist and I'm certainly not an epidemiologist.

All I'm writing about is that we're freaking out when stepping back to watch and wait may make more sense for our collective wellbeing.

This is a scary time. We really don't know what's going on. So much is hypothetical and conjecture. That part is good. Looking at this from as many angles as possible benefits us all. People are dying and we feel helpless.

But adding to the hysteria or over-dramatizing when most of us are in a situation that is not yet really bad helps no one.

I'm fortunate in my day job to be in contact with people all over the world, from other parts of this country, to Europe and Asia. No one is taking this lightly and no one should. But speaking to and writing with people all over the planet has shown me that we are the only country sensationalizing the situation. Every headline I see is playing up aspects of the events to generate fear. Not wariness. Not leading with what new information may have been garnered. But those elements of any statistic likely to scare anyone reading them.

The reality is that we have only been looking at this for a short time and we are just now starting to see the bigger spread pattern. Whatever this is and will be, we're still learning. We're gathering data and working to deal with it. We know -- we think -- who's at highest risk. That part is good. But the longterm is still an absolute unknown.

We're alive. We're part of an ecosystem. We're also the only species trying to unbalance it continually. We want to live longer and without disease. But disease is a part of the ecosystem, too. And each time we find a way to combat something new and more dangerous than what's preceded it, we're unintentionally causing the ecosystem to create something even scarier to try and maintain balance.

Let me repeat something: we're alive.

Some have died and I'm no fan of that, but it's also reality. Yet the reality is that being alive means any of us can die at any time. The most mundane things can end a life. Its fragility is what makes it so precious. The fact that our lives are finite is a part of what gives them meaning.

But we're still here.

I don't think for one minute that I'm going to wake up tomorrow and step into an episode of the Twilight Zone where I'm the last two-legged critter about. I know there will be more bad news. But if I've learned anything from surviving riots, earthquakes, floods and a mudslide, it's that there is always hope. We may not be getting the good news from the big media sources, but I promise you there is still good news in the world. There are reasons to hope. We can still love. We can still believe in all kinds of things.

You may be a nihilist or an anarchist. If so, you're likely having the time of your life. But for the rest of us, step away from the TV or the computer screen for a minute. Look out a window. The world is still there. You're still in it. There really are worse things than having to be home for a while. Honest. Really and for true.

I know few are going to read this. I know it isn't going to be a significant gesture on any large scale. But if one person reads this and has one more moment of comparative calm, I'll have done some good. And in a time where there is more and more freaking out, I'll take that.

Now back to reclusion for your not so humble narrator.

I wish you only the best.

Quixotic More Than Curmudgeonly

Anyone who's meandered through my meanderings must have gleaned that the only real thread is that the author is at odds with the world. Whether it's a matter of being an anachronism or simply never having the basic skills and sense to navigate society in all its minefield glory, I am a metaphorical square peg. But this is not all bad. Yes, I am more challenged than most when presented with new tech or some shift in contemporary jargon, but this has been the conundrum for anyone who's ever lived to a certain age. As someone who never imagined making it to 30, the ways life surprises me are many. At the same time, I think I provide an interesting reference point for those who are actually in the flow of things. I'm sort of a window into another time, another way of thinking and of doing things. Also my inability to assimilate smoothly or quickly is pretty amusing from the outside. I'm cool with that.

But I'm reasonably intelligent and am surrounded by many who are far more adept at making their way in the 21st century. Why am I not joining their ranks?

Because I don't want to.

The world is moving faster than it ever has. Technology is obsolete in weeks or sometimes months where it was once in place for years. Our paradigms for most everything are in flux. Language is becoming clusters of consonants interspersed with emojis. A smart phone is all but de rigeur at this point in history. We have access to all literature, science and history but are far more interested in creating the ideal selfie.

I'm not standing in judgment even if the language of that last paragraph reads that I am. Really.

So why don't I want to keep up? What possible reasoning could there be for choosing not to be a part of the mainstream? Am I just watching the world go by?

It's simple: I'm a romantic.

I love so many things left in the dust of wild advancement. I write with a pen. I can appreciate that people love taking pictures of their food, but I would rather relish in everything it is then step away fro my enjoyment to capture its image and post that to social media. But that's me.

Infatuation. Flirtation. Taking the time to get to know someone, even if that means having phone conversations and writing letters. I love the immediacy of texting and nudes as much as anyone, but there's something about a slow burn seduction that's just delicious to me. Caressing someone's brain with just words is an art form that seems nearly extinct. As I'm closer to extinction by the minute, this makes sense. But, as someone I know likes to put it, I ain't dead yet.

This is not a lament and it is not harping on things being better in some bygone time. That's horse shit. The world has always been a struggle for the thinking and feeling. And society has always marched unrelentingly forward. That's how things are. I'm fine letting the advancements happen, they just have less and less relevance for me.

Each new device I'm convinced to get has a shorter lifespan than the one it replaces. For this old brain all the convenience of new functionality makes less sense on an intuitive level. We used to joke about owners manuals for the things we bought. Now they don't exist. Where customer support was once something everyone looked upon with chagrin, it's all but gone. I could relay incidents from the last years of my trying to get assistance from one company or another, but it's pretty evident from all I say and do that I'm from another era. And it may be an era that never happened.

I have watched the weird twisting of inspiring to inspirational and tone into tonality. I have been given phone numbers that I'm told never to call. I watch world leaders daily who have no idea what diplomacy is. And this is fine. My bafflement is fine. And so is my solitude. Stepping out of the current of life around me is really what allows me to enjoy those things I'm able to savor. And I revel. I'm a creature of the senses. Give me a great view, wonderful aromas, the tactile glory of something exquisitely sculpted. Let me look into a lover's eyes for hours, let me kiss for days.

But in a world where everything's in motion, faster and faster all the time, I'll stand away a bit and delight in some stillness. A friend has taken to calling me Zarathustra. It's a compliment I hardly deserve but infinitely preferable to the far more common Unabomber comparison. I'm not truly a hermit although I am definitely reclusive. My life was so accessible for so long that I am really easing happily into anonymity.

As I've written loads,  I'm difficult. It isn't that I'm complex or complicated, but I am obstinate as hell. It isn't that I think my way is right, but it works for me. No one else needs to believe in the same kind of love I do or harbor sentiment the way I choose, but why is it so many want me to let these things go. Yes, I have had unrealistic ideas of a lot of things for most of my life, but that kind of view also allowed for a kind of magic in the world. I'm not opposed to tech, but as an artist I need magic. Need it.

In a world that seeks to reduce everything to sound bytes and memes, I'm writing an epic novel that's equal parts adventure and philosophy. Not to publish or to convince anyone that I'm valid, that my viewpoint is (likely it and I are both obsolete), but because this gives me a world where I can understand something. It's no ideal reality, but the conflicts and struggles are those that resonate with my skewed take on things. It's not a noble pursuit so much as an endeavor to challenge me cerebrally and aesthetically.

So yeah, I'm that guy living in a forest on a mountain, the same one who's not jumping into conversations. But don't take the wry smile on my face as condescension. And please don't assume that my confusion over something said to me is simply the reaction of a doddering old dude (although it may be). It could simply be that I'm observing the way things are to throw it into contrast somewhere in my writing or music.

I Am Not Here. You Do Not See This.

So why am I writing again after posting I was done? Seriously, what is wrong with me?

These are probably questions no one will ever be able to answer and I really hope that no one's concerned enough to pursue their resolution. Yet here I am and perhaps there is a you out there reading this. If not, life goes on and none's the pity.

Don't worry, there's nothing appearing below that will change the shape of the universe or mold your aesthetic into something new. It's just more meandering and, I hope, blather without morose carping. If any carp manifest, obviously I should not be writing at all.

The months since June have been interesting. Friends and heroes have died, time has marched on unrelentingly and I am going more invisible with each passing moment. These are all just symptoms of living. With all of it, some clarity has come. Not much, but some.

I doubt it will surprise anyone who's read any of these posts that the one thing of which I've become keenly aware is my own sadness. Not that huge self-esteem crushing, paradigm shifting stuff, but much smaller yet fiercely tenacious sorrow. Some of it is due to what I see in the world around me (see any of the previous posts for examples), but much of it is due to the fact that what was once a freakishly connected life is now floating through the ether all but completely untethered.

Side note: this will not be kvetching nor will it be laying blame. Really.

One of the side effects of living is, if one's lucky or focused, having a life. This means gaining a certain momentum and having some things sort of spin free of one's metaphoric/metaphysical gravitational field. If the life is having a family and/or having a career, it means that some of what's thrown out of orbit is individuals.

That is some powerfully awkward grammar, but I think (hope) you get what I meant.

My trajectory was very public for a long time and it was glorious. But then things changed dramatically and little has been the same since. This is no one's fault but circumstances changed and I have done what I could to keep pace with things.

I have failed.

People have told me that my solitude and isolation are easily remedied and they are right to a degree, but there is much that people can't, won't or don't see. First, no one is me so no one truly has my perspective. The facts are easy to review, but without having my mind and life experience that's like equating data with wisdom. Fallacious. Given my circumstances and how they changed, many people would respond differently. But this is the point: I'm me and no one else.

I do not blame Mother Nature for weather, nor do I hold people with different views than mine in contempt. I sometimes wonder why it is that few attempt to see another's perspective but I doubt I'll ever understand that. Again, this is life.

But the events that redirected the trajectory of my life had a powerful impact on me as a person. I became more closed off and jumped less frequently into things head first. This was both a result of fear and a desire for self-preservation. I don't expect anyone to understand that, including those who have been through similar things, but what's happened to me since has also sealed my decision to stay on this path at least for now.

It isn't that I don't want to take chances, but I am tired of being hurt and abandoned without explanation. I think these are things most can grasp. Please if you're reading this and riled because of what I've written, don't tell me to buck up or pull myself up by the bootstraps. I have done this. It's why I'm alive. But over the last decade or a little more, it's become clear that I am just not that twenty-first century. This is not bad, it's just a matter of having an outlook that doesn't line up with most of those around me.

Part of that is a result of getting older, but it's also due to that same foolishness of me being me. You see, my views have never made a lot of sense to those around me. They're romantic and I've traditionally held myself to a fairly high ethical standard. I don't expect the same from others, but I have hoped that the people who choose to be in my life will accept these things about me and not make fun of me for them... too much or too often.

If I haven't written before about my realization about quality of life, maybe I'll make that a future installment. And if I have written about it then I'll try not to repeat myself. But what it all boils down to -- for me and probably for me alone -- is that it makes more sense to be away from the world for a number of reasons. I get to deal with less random hostility. I'm much less caught up in drama that has nothing to do with me. And I get to be the architect of my life, free of the concerns of dragging anyone else along for the ride.

I am still not opposed to a relationship. And if one comes along that proves substantial, obviously I will amend the way I live now. But I stopped holding out hope for one and making the rest of my life contingent upon that possibility some time ago. I will always love women. Always. Now I just understand that I've gone into so many relationships with ridiculous expectations that there's no way any of them could have worked out. Yes, I absolutely own that. Do I wish any of them could have worked out? Hell yes! But the person I was then made it unlikely at the very best. I salute anyone who tried being with me.

As I sit here, I realize I could write much, much more. But considering I hadn't intended to post even this much, maybe I'll just post again.

Maybe not.

Either way, have a great weekend and take care of yourself!