"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx
You can find better audioposts in my files than this one.
There are some that are funnier, more entertaining and more insightful but this is one where I just spouted off.
Makes me a little uncomfortable because I may not have said things with the care and precision I would like.
That makes it easier to lead to misunderstanding, but I’ll let it run and hope for the best.
I spent five out of the last seven days slinging iron in the gym and was reminded rather aggressively about how much time I have spent outside of it.
The audible cracks and creaks combine with sore muscles to make it clear that I can’t just pick up where I left off, no matter how badly I might want to.
Can’t just walk into and do what I did or expect my body to respond as if no time has passed and so I find myself having to make a significant effort to be patient.
It is the smart and mature move–I hate it.
And the silly thing is if my kids or friends asked for advice I would tell them to take their time.
Be smart, be safe and work your way back.
Guess I am not particularly good at taking my own advice.
I haven’t seen my family since January 1 and am starting to get excited because we’re only a few weeks away before the next visit.
And we’re all of two months or so before the move and we live together again.
That is a good thing, an important thing and something I am looking forward to.
It is not easy to parent from a distance and I haven’t been pleased that I have had to do it, but it is part of making a better life for us all and I think ultimately it will work.
There have been some very hard moments and challenges and it hasn’t been as smooth or easy as I had hoped.
There is some guilt and anxiety about the changes.
A certain amount of nervousness about whether it is going to be good and some fear that it could go south.
I don’t really think it will, but it might and that would to use a technical term…suck.
But I figure old Al is correct and that the only way to figure it all out is to keep going, got to put one foot in front of the other.
Can’t tell, know or see without trying it out so we’ll push on and see where it leads.
And that leads us back to the gym where the old man is doing his damnedest to stop the clock, if not turn it back.
Most of the time it feels like that is working, but there are moments where I wonder.
Moments where it becomes clear that I am not 25 any more and that I better act like it because this old body starts to bark at me if I don’t behave.
Got to trick it into forgetting how many miles I have put on and think it is younger or at least in better condition.
We’re getting there…slowly.
The kids are a mix of excited and nervous about the coming move. They ask questions and tell me they look forward to seeing me.
Sometimes they ask if there is any way to avoid moving and wonder if maybe I could move back instead of them moving here.
I get it.
I understand.
I feel badly, but sometimes the best thing you can do is take a chance and leave your comfort zone.
I am keeping my fingers crossed, it might be bumpy, but it could be great.
Hope they see it as an adventure and a chance to explore uncharted territory.
Just have to wait and see.
Sometimes you search for a Shmata not knowing you had spent your entire life looking.
It is only after you discover your Shmata that you recognize what you had been missing and begin to wonder if you are crazy.
You make excuses and drag your feet because it couldn’t possibly be what you think it could and by the time you realize what you have things happen and you realize you just witnessed a shooting star.
Except the night sky is no longer lit so brightly and all you have is a trail and memory.
Time passes and you begin to think that maybe you were wrong, maybe you fooled yourself into thinking it was special but in your heart you know better.
Your air has gone and you choke a little bit and wonder why the sun doesn’t shine quite so bright.
It is hard not to feel like you are alone in the dark and to wonder if that feeling is proof of your having fooled yourself.
And just when you are convinced you are indeed alone you find fingers wrapped in yours and for a long while you smile and your heart soars because the warmth is back.
Until it is not and you wonder if it is a cycle or a hiccup.
Maybe it is both and maybe it is neither.
The funny thing is you wander around trying to pretend it is meaningless even though you are convinced you’re still not alone in the dark.
All you need to do is reach and you’ll find those fingers again. Somewhere in the darkness you’ll hear a voice reprimand you for not believing.
And you’ll say you were told not to believe and be told you were always told to ignore the voice.
That will make you crazy because sometimes you follow and sometimes you ignore.
Red dress, blue dress–it doesn’t matter what fucking dress it is.
Wear it and then take it off.
You just know in your gut that you are right.
It is the best thing ever and a curse because even though you are convinced there is that little voice that says wait until the fingers find yours.
Is that really what you are supposed to do?
The boys of your youth would call you a pussy for that and though you never really cared, you sort of do now.
Maybe it is because you hope that you’re supposed to take that risk and you’ll be rewarded for doing so.
But if you are not, if you are wrong, well it is not much fun getting smacked in the mouth now is it.
We were together, I forget the rest- Whitman
That ring of fire burns, burns, burns- that fucking ring of fire.
Close your eyes and find your center and ask yourself what happens when lightning strikes and the impossible and improbable come to be.
It all started with one single moment and it could all start again…or not.
Smarter people than I don’t spend any time wondering, worrying or thinking about what they think they know or feel.
They focus upon what they can see, taste and touch in the most literal sense of those things.
If you can touch, taste or see it, well you know what is or is not real.
I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream
I know you, that gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam
And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem
But if I know you, I know what you’ll do
You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream
Once Upon A Dream-Â Lana Del Rey ( Maleficent)
I hear it playing in my head as one of a multitude of songs and poems and try to ignore it.
Wrap myself in the safety and security of the tactile and concrete aspects of life because it provides more control and I crave that.
Crave it because other things are spinning in ways I can’t stop and it frightens me a bit.
But part of me likes the fear and chases the flame because it feels appropriate and right.
Because you search for a Shmata to wrap yourself in and remember the touch forever.
Everything changed and nothing will be the same.
Can’t say whether it is good or bad, only that it is and maybe that is the best way to look at it.
Sometimes words are insufficient which is why people like Whitman write things like “we were together, I forget the rest.”
Maybe that is all we need and the courage to follow our heart across the sea and through the woods.
Mine broke open wide so very long ago I cannot remember how or when. Sometimes I wonder if it has ever been repaired or if it ever will be.
And then I smile because of course it healed and of course it was ripped open again and healed again.
Now it is in a place and position I am not sure I recognize and maybe that is best. Maybe it is a reminder to step out of my comfort zone and test the water.
Out in the cold, searching for a Shmata never knowing if I will wrap myself around or be wrapped in it.
Some say secret worlds are best left alone and others say they exist to be shared and because they offer an opportunity for growth and exploration like none other.
Words just do it justice, so I let it be and stand on the balcony searching for a Shmata.
Yep, it is an audio post, might need to buy a microphone.
Five weeks, 12 hours and five minutes from now my lease expires and I don’t where I am going to live.
Those numbers might not be entirely accurate because I didn’t confirm their validity but they are close enough.
That is ‘cuz I know the lease ends the day before the 19 and after the 17th, but don’t worry about whether old Jack Steiner will have a place to hang his hat because if need be he’ll knock on that wacky Shmata Queen’s door and tell her to make room.
But chances of that happening are pretty slim because I have been quite active in searching for a new joint to call home.
The good news is I have lots of options for where to live and I am actively looking into new places to call The Ponderosa.
Put in some applications in a few different spots and am waiting to hear back, kind of excited and nervous.
Got one in particular that I think could be very cool, but it is a bit of a stretch financially. Not a horrible one, but initially it might be a little challenging.
So I signed up today to be Lyft driver.
Did so based upon the recommendation of a friend who said he averaged about $200 a week in spare cash and figured I’d try it out.
That is the kind of easy extra income I can go for and I figure if I hate it there is limited risk.
And if I like it, well it is guaranteed blog fodder and something that I can do as a way to help make some luxuries possible.
Not that I need all that much because I don’t.
But I tell the kids that if you really want something you will figure out how to work for it.
Anyhoo, when you have moved as often as I have you soon learn to care much less about where and what than who is with you.
I completed another circuit around the sun last Tuesday which means I am 48 and that much closer to middle age.
Kind of peculiar and surreal to think about how young I feel versus what I see in the mirror.
Strange to stare at pictures of my nephew and his prom date (kid is a junior, but he took a senior) and to reconcile it against reality.
He won’t appreciate my saying I sometimes think of him as being this little kid or understand how my eyes sort of narrowed when I think about prom.
I skipped mine and haven’t a single regret but I do remember how my girlfriend chose to celebrate and wonder if I ought to be the good uncle and check in with him about certain things.
Not because I want or need details but to make sure he is being smart and that he doesn’t get himself into trouble.
I did a very good job of keeping my parents out of my business and know they didn’t have a clue how active I was until I was in college.
Call that a thinly veiled reference for having played with fire a little bit because I was dumb and so were some of my friends.
I do know a couple of guys who have children who are about 30 or so now. Did I mention we graduated high school in ’87.
****
Anyway, I have been thinking a bit about how good Texas has been to me and how fucking hard a lot of this adventure has been.
Been thinking about how hard I have been working to make it easier for my children and to do something that will help them immeasurably.
None of that provides you with specific details about who I was and how it compares to who I am now so you might wonder about the subhead.
It is really a placeholder for me and a time marker that will help me remember this moment and that is important.
The blog is a chronicle of time and events, a place that helps me see where I have been and figure out where I am going.
And those Whitman quotes, well consider them to be significant and substantive words I live by.
I’d write more but I keep getting interrupted and am taking that as a sign it is time to publish, sign off and walk.
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