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.