Sparky

The name fit him so well. Sparky.  Few could ignite a room with their humor, wit, or simply their garrulous laugh the way Sparky could.  As an in-law he became a part of our family well beyond in-law status.  I don't really remember the first time I met him, but I remember that he treated me like a brother and an equal, even though I was quite a bit younger.
  I have two brothers. One who passed away when I was 17, and because of a 13 year age difference, and my youthful selfishness, I never developed a relationship the way I now wish I had.  My other brother, eleven years older than me, well...maybe it's a post for another time but I'll just say that we are very different and, sadly, we haven't overcome those differences to have much of a relationship at all.  Particularly sad in fact, considering that (or maybe because) we share the loss of our brother.
  Sparky was everything I could want in a brother.  He was fun and funny.  He was smart and could share and relate his knowledge in many ways.  He was an extremely talented artist, whose imagination and work I admired.  But what I loved about him most was that he simply accepted me as a brother, where others may have quite understandably seen a pesky little brother-in-law, getting in the way and tagging along.
  Sadly, for them (and for me), things didn't last with my sister and Sparky, eventually ending in their divorce.  At the time I was clueless about their divorce and coincidentally, was pretty self absorbed in my own budding romance.  I don't recall if it was implicit or explicit, but in the painful aftermath of their divorce I knew that my relationship with him was pretty much over as well.  I was living a few hours away and so we hadn't kept  in close communication anyway.  They moved on, and I moved on with my life, which got very busy very quickly.  I got married, started a business and family with my wife and bought a house-all in about 18 months. I could hardly look forward, never mind looking back.
  Now I wish I had looked back.  More often.  Sooner.  Somehow, I find myself missing him, even though we haven't had any meaningful contact in many years. Like many things in life (and death) sometimes you don't  miss them until it's too late and they're gone.
  As I began, the name Sparky truly fit.  Shining bright, but all too brief.  Rest in Peace, Sparky.

Peace to the Planet, and to Sparky...

I want (peace, happiness, and success) revenge

peace, happiness, and success
peace, happiness, and success
peace, happiness, and success
that is my mantra, my mantra for myself
my mantra for revenge
for a life well lived is the best revenge
so, fuck you bitch
peace, happiness, and success
the gra$$ i$n't alway$ greener
peace, happiness, and success...

Rain

rain on the windshield
wipers, keep wiping, won't work
one of life's lessons

Sometimes it feels like the rain will never end you know?  The sky is steel gray, the relentlessly pounding torrent seems to come in crashing waves.  And when you're in it, when it's happening, it has that awful feeling that it will never end.  You can tell yourself that it will end, you know that it will end, but it still feels like it will go on forever.  When you're in it, it feels like it will go on forever.  Because, even with the wipers on high, they can't keep up and you just can't see...

Peace to the Planet....

somebody's always worse off than you

I am having an extremely difficult time at the moment.  But , not to take any pleasure or satisfaction in the misfortunes of others, at times like this I try to remember that somebody's always got it worse.For example-someone who's own plight makes you feel like a pussy for bitching, for crying, for feeling sorry for yourself.  It's called putting it in perspective-that's what hearing from a friend who's had her cancerous bladder removed, can't bear children, divorced once, and witnessed her sibling die in an accident she was also injured in...when she was like ten years old.  I don't necessarily feel better but I don't feel sorry for myself any more either.

Peace to the Planet...

One of those days

Had one of those days as a parent that you simply try to get through. Survive. Hoping your sanity will be intact as well as all of your children's limbs. You want to scream, and often do.  You want to do worse than scream and hopefully don't.  If I had any hair left I'd pull it out.  Grey?  Coming on strong (the beard).  Ozzy's "Crazy Train"  playing in my head as I go off the rails toward a nervous breakdown. 
  At the end of the day-thankfully there was an end-I ask myself what happened, what was so bad, what could I have done better?  Really it was just typical shit-teenage shit, sibling shit, communication shit, tired and cranky shit (me and them).  Some days it simply wears me down, some days it gets to you a little (or a lot) more.  And some days it's like they decide to gang up on me, all the shit at ONCE!-OK so here's the plan, I'll be hormonal and sulk all day, you contradict everything he says, and you...you, oh little one, do what you do best...Meltdown!  Readyyyyy-Break!
 Allright-so maybe that's a little dramatic-but maybe not. They're pretty smart and organized little shits, that really know how to execute a good plan.
   No matter what; sanity-insanity, screaming-no screaming, limbs-no limbs, I love them and I am grateful for them.  Even when they provide me with one of those days.

Peace to the Planet...

Freedom

  Doubt was nothing new to him, he had lived with it every day.  Felt it from the inside, outside, every side.  He felt it in every look, and in every word.  It was like a constant, weighty companion, dragging him down like an anchor.  To Truman, it often felt like it would cause him to drown and then one day, it did.  The doubt became so powerful, so constant, so overwhelming he finally gave in to the weight, letting it pull him down, down, down. Down to the deliciously depressing depths he never knew existed.  Deeper. Darker. And silent. That was what he noticed.  The cool, calm silence, all alone there in the darkness.  It had been a gradual thing but it dawned on Truman suddenly.  The inky black silence.  He drank it in, enjoying the calm, the peace, the utter lack of stimulus.  It was liberating really.  He had been fighting so long he hadn't realized how tired and weary he had grown.  But this, this was freedom! Truman had not given in so much as he had come to a place of mere acceptance, and that in itself was the turning point.  Letting himself soak in this void had allowed him to let go.  He let go of his own doubt, he let go of his own fear, he let go of the bitter loathing that had taken over everything.  The realization struck him as he noticed his own pulse pounding, feeling and hearing it course through every vein in his body. He was alive! And he liked it.   The darkness and silence were still out there, but no longer a part of him.  Truman felt light and music radiating from within, rippling outward through the depths, pulsing from his soul, and rippling through the emptiness and filling it with joy.  Sensation now returning, he felt himself hurtling forward, outward, upward, elevated by the freedom he never knew he was missing.  Up through the depths, breaking through the surface, Truman soared faster and higher out beyond the atmosphere,  still fueled by the doubts of others, but now mixed with his inner freedom, his heart burst into a galaxy of stars.  Stars in the darkness.

If I had a band...

Being a lover of music as well as a failed musician, I've always been one of those people who had the desire but lacked the ability to be in a band.  And like many others of the same ilk, I often think "Man, __________ would be a great name for my band....if I had one."

So...here goes

Popple Dungeon-My all time favorite-this name is from a back road/general area where I grew up in Chester, VT.  I always it thought sounded cool, even as a kid. It would definitely have to be a heavy duty type of band-Zeppelin like.

Wild Tangents-inspired by my own rambling posts! could be a folk group, could be a spandex wearin', 80's type Hair band

Smokestack-for a reggae group or maybe metal (Smokestaq?)

Three Blind Mice-An acoustic duo (get it? duo is two and three is... never mind...)

Doctor Funkenstein and the Electric Hectic Mayhem-pretty self explanatory

Dark Hollow-an actual band from the late 80's Burlington, VT scene, doing (surprise!) Grateful Dead  covers-still, I always loved the name (and the song).  There is an endless supply of great names from the Dead's song titles and lyrics but I'll stop with just the one favorite.


Slippery-a Dave Matthews type jam band-maybe Slippery Slope

Brass Knuckles-a solo heavy metal artist backed by The Fuck You Orchestra-can you hear it? Knuckle-heads unite!

Ganglia-more metal

Pussyfoot-It sounded vaguely familiar so I checked it out-turns out it's already taken-Not sure what I had in mind but this was definitely not it-give a listen to the original Pussyfoot
Oh-na-na, Hi-ya, Oh-na-na, Hi-ya, Hi-ya! Pretty funny stuff! She's a 70's disco hottie that was a hit in Australia (no surprise considering Olivia Newton John, the Bee Gees and ABBA all being so popular there as well)

Feel free to submit your favorites

Peace to the Planet....

(hmmm... that could work as a name for a band too..)

The ex's Hex from Texas

   I've always been a sucker for good (or any) alliteration*, and this phrase kept coming to mind this weekend.

  As previously noted, my ex is much further along in the process of moving forward than I am.  As in- she had a boyfriend (the Hex from Texas-let's just call him Hex) before I had moved out of the house she and I shared.  Painful. (By the way, it's true, everything IS  bigger in Texas-even assholes as it turns out!) So in the meantime I've been dealing with the shock, jealousy and pain of this and the subsequent divorce.  A year later now,  I feel like I may be starting to get my feet under me, although a little wobbly still.  In other words it doesn't take much to knock me down, emotionally speaking.
 
  So why was this alliterative  phrase coming to mind this weekend?  Well, because Hex came for the weekend. The ex and Hex have been maintaining a long distance relationship for (at least)  the past year. This must take a lot of work, I think to myself, if only she had worked this hard on our relationship!   (Irony and alliteration in one post-stay tuned folks!)  No, this is not the ex's and the Hex's first visit-she's been to Texas several times and he's been here several times as well-including enjoying Thanksgiving dinner here, in my old home, with my old wife, AND with MY KIDS!  More pain!. (I have much to be thankful for but this was a particularly trying Thanksgiving for me.)  Like salt in the wound, you know? (Oooh-now we've got a simile and a cliche in one sentence!)  But it is always worse when he visits here-it's in my face, on my turf (this is the town I grew up in), in my old home, in my old bed etc.  The last time Hex showed up, the ex actually asked if she could take the kids (during my time with them) so that they could have some (bonding!) time with Hex. (Yup-she's got a pair-eh?)


  I'll give the ex credit- at least she let me know Hex was going to be around, showing me much appreciated consideration (sarcasm? check!). Seriously, at least I was prepared (by that I mean obsessively overwrought with anguish) so that when I went to pick up the kids for the weekend I wouldn't be caught off guard by my first face to face with Hex.
 
 What I wasn't prepared for was more salt in the wound coming from my six year old son (unintentional, of course-he's blissfully self centered [age appropriate-I like to think] and unaware of much about the divorce other than Mom and Dad now live apart.)  I'm pretty sure my son loves me (insecure sarcasm? check!) but he is definitely a Mama's boy, always was.  So naturally, when leaving for his time with me,  this makes saying goodbye to Mom hard (on all three of us).  He's fine when the transition is a pick up at school.  He loves his time with me and certainly doesn't spend it pining for Mom or even asking to call etc.  But it's definitely, and infinitely more difficult when I have to take him from her, and even worse still when this happens at her place (the only home he's ever known until I got my apartment).  So I was prepared for some of the usual difficulties when this situation arose this weekend.  And I was prepared for the uncomfortable nature of the Hex's mere presence.  But, what I was not prepared for was my son begging to stay with Mom so he could be with Hex!  OUCH!  This was a different kind of pain, a different kind of jealousy.  Damn, the ego does take a beating....

  Luckily I had a secret weapon-Dunkin' Donuts! (as I said, I was prepared for the usual stuff-thankfully it worked for the unexpected stuff also)  Yes, the lure of  Dunkin' Donuts (America runs on Dunkin'....it's true!) did the trick, we left without tears from him and without further embarrassment and ego bruising for me.  Not only did the donuts smooth the transition for my son, but they had the unexpected and  pleasant benefit of being a  bit of salve to my own, lightly salted, wounds. (Pun? not exactly, but I tried...a play between two cliches maybe?)

As the great philosopher, Homer, once said "Mmmmmm, donuts!"
(There we go! Pun? Check!)

So while not quite having it all, this post did have a heaping helping, including; alliteration, irony, simile (no metaphor-dang it!) cliche, sarcasm, puns and even a moral (be prepared!)  Now if I could only figure out how to get the e in cliche to have the proper accent (acute, not grave, I believe, although I always thought my French teacher Mme. Marquis was said it with a "G" like accent a-goo. Now thinking I should change the name of the  blog to "Wild Tangents"-just a thought....(would also make a great name for a band!)

Peace to the Planet....


*I'm going with this definition of alliteration-thank you dictionary.com
the commencement of two or more stressed syllables of a word group either with the same consonant sound or soundgroup (consonantal alliteration)