My Day (this is getting out of hand) in Bullets

  • People were greeting me today.
    • The lady who lives alone was painting her house. She said “Hi” but she looked at me with a terrifyingly dark expression. I don’t know what she was thinking.
    • The speed-walking, handsome, young couple was scared of my dogs. My dogs wanted to lick them and get rubbed. It was at the end of the walk and the dogs’ muscles were sore.
    • The lady with three pugs had no control over her dogs. With all glowing respect to all of the wonderful pug lovers out there, these dogs were simply ugly as Detroit River water. One of them ran up to us like it was going to blow dog snot all over us, but Harry gave one of his alligator roars and the poor thing ran away with his tail between his legs.
      • My poor Daisy, she does almost everything with tail between legs. I think she’s anxiety-ridden about something terrible happening to her butt hole, and I really cannot blame her for her sensitivities. I think she had a bad butt event before we adopted her at the pound.
        • If you want to catch Daisy with tail up, offer her a treat or let her get into a wrestling match with little Pixie. Pixie is submissive with Daisy but that’s because Daisy acts and sounds as if she is going to rip poor little Pixie’s tummy out through a hole in her throat or straight through her tiny black ear.
        • Daisy plays gently but she sounds like a Tasmanian devil.
      • It is strange that many dogs leave the butt hole exposed. Thinking of this, I am grateful for my clothes.
  • If I really wrote my day in bullets, it might be thousands of bullets. You would think most of them would be boring as well as being stupid as hell, but they are the diesel engine trains running in and out of my sick little mind and they entertain the shit out of me, though sometimes in an inordinately depressive way.
    • Can you be entertained by depressive thoughts? Yes, Molly, you sure can be, but it is not the thing the normal person thinks of entertainment.
    • It is the snake pit of trails running all around telling me I’m the worst. Not entertaining, but it keeps me busy.
    • If the thoughts keep me busy enough, I don’t take dire action.
  • I know what refrigerant means; I know what recovery means; I know what systems means, but I have no idea what you do if you run the “Best Refrigerant Recovery System Company in the Heartland,” (especially since the truck was parked in a big field where all of the earth movers were going crazy). I also think I know what “Heartland” means, but I believe it is a grotesque misnomer for reasons we won’t get into in this forum.
  • One family in our neighborhood has about 24 feet of a L-shaped, white picket fence in front of a sparsely decorated porch and a smaller-L-shaped sidewalk that does not (the fence does not) have any white pickets. I don’t mind the missing pickets, but the missing pickets left rotting wood so the shadows of the pickets are there and they make me anxious. Something terrible happened when someone was fitful with anger. I try not to judge, but really, a quart of white paint and an hour of time would remedy this, but the fence occupies its worthless geography in this manner for years. I try not to judge because I should be judging my house. I have a scroll full of projects to work on.
  • Many have said that writers must be absolutely honest. Hemingway was most poignant, “All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.” Writers must be truthful or it won’t be good with the reader. That drives me like the severest challenge.
    • I’m not a writer, but when I sit down to write, I think about honesty before I write the first word. I like doing that. It’s a dare to me. When I’m honest, I’m vulnerable, so I need to feel comfortable with allowing people to laugh at me and be disgusted with me.
      • Dogs who lie on their backs with all four in the air, tummy exposed, are exhibiting their complete trust in the others around them.
      • Harry does this all of the time. I don’t think any animal ever violated Harry’s trust. Good for him.
    • Trying to be honest when one is writing leads to a terrible narcissism, but does one really know any truth aside from the one that is inside one’s own heart (sorry for the quaintish word)? I think not. I believe the rest of the world is a stage of deceptions that throws us in and out of boats full of chaos.
    • When my writing is not clear in some fashion, it is often because I am unwilling to be honest. (Fear creates the unwillingness. I don’t want you to be disgusted with me.)
    • After reading my poetry, many would say I am never honest, but this is honestly not true.
    • Until I started learning about true honesty with oneself, the kind that only happens when you dig so deeply into your heart, it hurts and you blubber cry, I had thought that I was honest. Now I think I am about 87%, perhaps more, but I am quite honest with others, to a fault.
    • I try not to hurt others and that’s when I become incompetent, with a horrific lack of honesty, throwing my moral compass in the bushes.
  • The earth movers at the school were moving massive amounts of earth today.
    • (They are building a new school behind the old school when the old school was just fine and they wonder why they can’t afford teachers and books.
    • At least our children will be held in beautiful prisons.)
    • Can you imagine the brains of the guy who invented the first earth mover? I am positive he was a crazy man.
    • I’m embarrassed that I am in such grand awe of earth movers.
  • On our walks, I dilly upon many oak trees. Most of the trees are soft wood trees with morbidly bizarre trunks showing the emotional stress of trying to live in America. But the oaks, oh my, they overwhelm me with a seeming natural perfection.
    • Oaks are stronger than anything man makes, but they are not stronger than F-5 tornadoes.
    • Sometimes, I feel myself approaching a sturdy oak, with a trunk diameter of perhaps three feet, and I hug the oak, it comes out of the ground, greets me with warm energy that flows deeply and seems to assure me that the tree will protect me from anything that life is about to throw at me (except for an F-5 tornado).
    • The oak doesn’t hug back but it shoots energy into me.
    • I can carry it upright, sideways or perpendicular to my path depending upon obstacles.
    • It’s whacked-out crazy to imagine I might be as sturdy as an oak by merely bringing the oak with me, but it gives me security like a blanket.
    • When I was at my worst this last spring, I had these continuous visions of the noose from a horizontal branch that was sturdier that you can imagine.
      • I don’t know why the sturdiness was such a core part of these visions.
      • I am glad they (the visions, the permanence of nasty game-planning) are gone.
      • I hope they don’t come back.
  • When I have a day off from work, that is when I dream about becoming a writer. I know better, but for a few moments, the reflection comforts my soul.
    • Buying lottery tickets is not a good game plan (speaking of bad game-planning) for comforting the soul.
    • If one did win, can you imagine not having to deal with the meaningless world?
    • One might escape the meaningless world for a much more dreadful meaningless existence.
    • If that happened, I wonder what I would write about.
    • I’d probably write about how I don’t contribute anything to the world.
  • Exercise is good for me. It fuels my imagination and makes me have crazy (good crazy) thoughts.
    • I wonder if other people have crazy and mad thoughts streaming when they’re walking.
    • I theorize that I somehow lose the stream of the plagues of “this American life,” and quickly, magically, I am alone in my own world where nothing hurts and where despair is a word that has been removed from my dictionary.
    • I’m not really a loner, but I love that feeling of being in my own world.
      • One time I took a substance that made me feel as if I were in my own world and that scared the tamales out of me.
      • Don’t get me wrong, it was a blast, but I was too scared to do it again.
  • When I listen to “Cassandra Gemini” from Frances the Mute by The Mars Volta, I am transported to this state of being where everything is heading for the final crash that permanently snuffs out the lights, or quite on the opposite end, I am headed for this massive peak to spend the rest of eternity sitting and breathing air that is like diamonds with a mind that is empty like the universe but more beautiful. It seems impossible that a piece of art could do both of these things at nearly the same time (within seconds, yanking back and forth), but it’s true for me. The words are not satisfactory, but they are the truest thing I can say about that piece.
  • It seems that I love art by artists who have also suffered from depression. Other art seems phony. I wonder why this is.
  • I love reading books but I love it so much, I always find four other books I desperately need to read while I am reading today’s book.
    • Thus, I have a lot of books going.
    • The resulting mental gymnastics is good for my aging, toasted brain.
  • Sometimes, after the good exercising (of the body, even if this is simply a vigorous [my doctor’s word for it] stroll) and after the panting has stopped, I love seeing how my dogs have arranged themselves for the mid-morning nap.
    • You can view the fact that they are living right.
    • I love that.
    • You can see that there is not one thing that is wrong in their worlds and that is absolutely magical to me.
    • Perhaps in this way, it is like watching a baby sleep.

 

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  1. #1 by Life: Between the lines on June 14, 2011 - 8:48 pm

    and I read it all lol. Your thoughts are not crazy at all, hilarious more like it, a busy mind 🙂 Have a good evening/morning1 🙂

    • #2 by Carl on June 15, 2011 - 9:32 am

      AH, thank you for your comment! And thing you for reading all of the drivel. 🙂

  2. #3 by SandySays1 on June 14, 2011 - 9:27 pm

    Do you wear roller skates? Or are you faster than a speeding bullet? Great post LOL!
    Sandy
    http://www.sandysays1.wordpress.com

    • #4 by Carl on June 15, 2011 - 9:33 am

      HAHA! Thank you, Sandy. I think I trudge along in a pondering fashion, but the mind is like a bullet! 🙂

  3. #5 by Indigo Spider on June 14, 2011 - 9:48 pm

    I must not be normal since I find depressive (and your depressive) thoughts very entertaining. So much to say, to comment on, but I will just say “you played inside my skull” 🙂

    • #6 by Carl on June 15, 2011 - 9:40 am

      Thank you for your comment. I am grateful for your visit.

  4. #7 by Kay Camden on June 14, 2011 - 10:52 pm

    This is brilliantly… something…
    My brain has shut off due to LOL overload. You have succeeded in charming me. Look out.

    • #8 by Carl on June 15, 2011 - 9:41 am

      LOL, Kay! And this is what happens with a serious post! Thanks for your comment – I’m charmed.

      • #9 by Kay Camden on June 15, 2011 - 9:51 am

        It makes me want to do this. But I’m afraid of what would come out. Because I wanted to say, “My god, Carl, you think too damn much!” But if I did this I’d probably have to say the same thing to myself. And it would only succeed if I wasn’t aware of what it would become, but I couldn’t really do it without already being aware, so… the results are already skewed.

        • #10 by Carl on June 15, 2011 - 10:26 pm

          I think we all think too much which makes this fun. Could do one every day, but it takes a little time. 🙂

        • #11 by Carl on June 15, 2011 - 10:26 pm

          I think we all think too much which makes this fun. Could do one every day, but it takes a little time. 🙂

  5. #12 by pattisj on June 15, 2011 - 12:38 am

    Thanks for sharing your day. I appreciate your sense of humor, and your honesty.

    • #13 by Carl on June 15, 2011 - 9:41 am

      Thank you for reading, Patti. You’re very kind!

  6. #14 by Gravitas on June 15, 2011 - 8:45 am

    I liked reading this.
    That’s my true sentence for the… well, for the morning.

    • #15 by Carl on June 15, 2011 - 9:42 am

      Thank you for your comment. I appreciate your spending the time and your one sentence for the morning here! 🙂

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