I have four parents. If you just forget about the insipidly ubiquitous “step-” we insist on inserting everywhere, it all makes a lot more sense. Now one of the four has died. That’s a new thing for me. 060121 The difference between Don’s old Carver amps before I could have them and after I took them home—the magic shimmering outer layer dissipates, and they’re just—some old, humming amps now. But then again—are they? Mom’s face when I got ready to back out of the driveway—most genuine I’ve ever seen her The walls close in on everyone from time to time—question is, how close were they to begin with? 06??21 ANY purchase ends up as swapping one set of problems for another Three things that get in the way: 1. Fear of rejection 2. Aversion to discomfort 3. Just plain old lack of energy And where do they come from? How do they interact or relate? Are they just different spins on the same fundamental thing? How do you begin to address them? BTW, get in “the way” of what? Right now, it’s: feeling like I’m helping my kids not be lethargic and depressed, and being as engaged as I’d like to be as a teacher, and, maybe it sounds dumb, but still the thing where I buy expensive hobby/luxury/shiny objects impulsively. 060521 we’ll go to class and then i’ll make you an iced coffee we’ll read some books or else just admire the way they look bathed in the sun splashing across the plank placed atop your radiator 060621 The computer has become a mindless news feed box. Hypothesis: that’s why it’s not fun anymore and why you always want to buy a new one, but the new one just becomes the same thing so the period during which you’re satisfied or thrilled has been severely truncated. You’ve tried “getting rid of things” and separate accounts before without much success. Hypothesis: presenting yourself with emptiness is a thing you can try but it won’t work unless you’re presently equipped to face, deal with, go into (etc) said emptiness. What now? are you ready to face the emptiness? at all? even a little bit? even for a few moments every other day or so? or no? are you ready to stave off the onrushing vacuum of futility with something other than continuous eating, drinking, and consuming? maybe just, say, i don’t know, just on Tuesdays for now? you’re lonely. I’d say “admit it” but you already admitted it—the trouble is, you haven’t done much to fix it yet. 061021 They said it was going to happen, and I guess it happened. Glitch fork bluff crant stinkaronamouse. And for that I can only try to be grateful. NO GUARANTEES. I am actually excited about life and my job and summer. We’re not out of the woods yet in terms of the girls’ (and my) sanity. It is not time to just be like OH EVERYTHINGS FINE. Nevertheless, I am optimistic. I can stop feeling guilty about KE because AR said he already got another good job. J9 is amazing (a little intimidatingly so) and AKL is of course my new work-spouse. Lol. I hope so anyway. We have THREE CLASSES to collab on next year. And iPadOS really does suck a little less than it used to, and I could actually see using it for a fairly glorious typewriter after all. (But then again, I’ve certainly said that before.) IT’S ALWAYS SOMETHING: - why doesn’t iA do paragraph up and down with option-arrow?? it just goes to the end or beginning of the sentence and gets stuck there - and here we go. It’s always just one little mosquito bite after another with these fucking things, until you just fucking give up - it’s cmd-opt-arrow to move line up and down instead of cmd-ctrl like every fucking where else 062021 Now officially worried about dad. Took a while to figure out where to plug in the hand mixer (in their own kitchen), then got startled when bumped the garbage disposal, then took a beat too long to figure out how to turn it off—went to unplug the mixer first, then Ruth had to practically intervene to turn the switch off, then he almost seemed to be stopping to stare at it for a second to make sure it wasn’t going to spontaneously come back on. And then he’s acting like he doesn’t know how to make French toast. Like just this general lack of confidence? It’s weird. Given her physical ailments, when his mind starts going, who’s going to be taking care of whom? 062121 Whereas the *previous* night I merely *suspected* I was dreaming, and was cautiously optimistic that her being back wasn’t real... ---- (mil at fucking 6:45 am:) i got a little nervous and ended up getting here 15 min early I just started lucid dreaming um sorry?? ur probably awake now if ur texting me Yeah. 😒 Your mom was back in my life but this time I figured out that it was a dream and I was so relieved! I started walking along this pathway and was so excited I started talking to this woman and was like, hey I'm dreaming! and told her the whole situation and she was like that's cool etc etc but she was having kind of a bad day. She worked at a library at a six flags and I was like that's such a great combination and I was about to suggest that maybe everyone's "real" world was just someone else's dream world so maybe she shouldn't worry about it so much ugh the front doors are locked because only the drive thru is open? imagine telling someone ur having a bad day and they say it's probably someone elses dream relax It made sense in context still don't know what I'm supposed to do about the doors I texted that Carlos guy but idk no response 😭😭 I mean the whole convo started out with "hey I'm dreaming" and she had already accepted that Kick in the door? No ---- ANyway. The point, besides that millie needs to start learning to figure small shit out on her own, because it’s hard enough for me to stay asleep as it is, is that I feel like there’s a connection between me realizing it was a dream and how moments before, in the dream, I had just said “I’ll be moving out with the girls then” in response to whatever bullshit A was saying, instead of just the old leaden sinking acceptance like i used to feel in these dreams. Prior to that, there was a thing about an old lover that she was going to see and that part was kind of exciting, a little bit of the old sexual stuff. I picked up one of her shoes that she dropped on the trail, because I figured I could “use” it later while thinking about what she was doing without me. But all that got overshadowed by her, and then later holly herself, telling me, beside an underpass next to standing water (that hadn’t been there before and was now blocking our way back) writhing full of fish, that holly was going to move in with us, and they hadn’t talked to me about it first. That’s when I just matter-of-factly said I would move out. I had thought of it as an option before, when just *she* told me, but holly wasn’t there yet, but this time, now, when i actually said it out loud to both of them, I added the “with the girls” part, and that made all the difference. I don’t want to be a teacher I don’t want to be a student I don’t want to be famous I don’t want to be a celebrity I no longer wish to be a veterinarian I just want to be able to put words together magically, in a gentle and loving, occasionally precise but frequently astonishing fashion 0615 - money (went a bit nuts in chicago, showing off? Trying to (re)capture something? Regardless…… - Megan (really ok??) - Falling for stupid Apple marketing and stuff - Too much weed, absent minded, kind of dumb and aimless - Millie (wtf????? Why is everything such anguish???) - School stuff , keeping up, too easy to tend toward slacking - Struggling to sleep - Anne (why am I being like this?) - Mom (moving? House? So many questions around that, including: - Dad and Ruth (who’s going to take care of them?) - Rent and this place and neighbors and fear around all that - Apnea - Being fat - Girls, insurance; switch?? Can I afford deductibles? Would the mental health coverage be adequate? - Girls, dentist appointments—why so hard to get basic shit done like this—what’s the hold up????? - Going to cape now—can Millie even handle staying here??? Is she going to wreck the Lincoln or hurt herself or skip her appointment?? - Why was the cat water empty? —— Writers who sound too much like me I see as shallow, narcissistic, clumsy, either very naïve or else disingenuous, and I can’t decide which is worse NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU SMOKE YOU’RE NOT GOING TO GET BACK THERE THE ONLY WAY IS FORWARD UP OR OUT You gotta thump the melon to know when it’s ripe The old man said I don’t know if it was love or something else but I was definitely in something But The younger version of himself said What It ain’t always easy being teachers pet You better watch yo back Note to Julia Don’t want to sound condescending patronizing or anything like that But I basically handed you a scooped out shell with some plywood stapled up And you starting turning it into a proper house (WHILE doing the rest of your job and life, and in less time than I took to even put my wobbly flats up ) A lavish compliment is a two way show of confidence What if we made our classes better as a series of favors to individual people. What if because we like our students, we want to build nice things for them And julia’d be like Duh! Ask yourself: Would you give that (assignment, test, class, speech, whatever) to your own kids? Or mom Or whoever it is for you that makes you want to put just the right amount of ketchup on the freshest burger and dress it up with salad and stuff like you’re in a little restaurant on imagination lake Note to Megan What “you survived a year in chicago on your own—and you’re shy now?” was supposed to mean was I’m proud of you You’re doing a great job I love you What if it was the job of the kids for whom school sucked the most To design and build the next school What would that look like? New name for Tutorials: iPad Play Time® We take turns being the one to share our screen and draw—or whatever THAT’S IT!!!! The “WHATEVER” PART!!!!! Release your viselike grip on the structure of the fucking TRF formality and all traces of kneejerk “You’re doing it wrong” or “Your beliefs are wrong” Let them ask a question HOWEVER THEY FUCKING WANT TO ASK IT and explain it to us HOWEVER THEY CAN FIGURE OUT TO EXPLAIN IT and ask us to help IN SOME ACTUAL WAY THEY EITHER WANT OR ELSE WE FIGURE OUT TOGETHER EXPLAIN THIS and MODEL THIS in class! “Here’s the TRF form you may use if you wish. Or you can roll your own. You won’t be graded on how many boxes you can fill out—unless you wanted to be I guess—only on the willingness to jump in and roll around with it or struggle with it or bat it back and forth or just set it on the table for everyone to just gawk at for a while or whatever it is you need! This is essentially an improv game, but you don’t need to rub that in their faces and be all precious about it Or I guess you could if you wanted to It’s your thing, know what I’m sayin? ANY time you’re a larva— You got to come out! Don’t necessarily have to have anything to do with sex-you-ality! But I mean, come on Can you really blame Hamlet’s uncle?? The key to voodoopad is to be willing and ready to get lost in it. Just wander in without a map. Is there a word for not wanting to re-read a book, but wanting to go back into its world nonetheless? The desire to remember a book vividly? to want to “go back there (to the world you lived in when you read it first) with what you know now,” but also to be able to come back immediately whenever you want or need to? To nod past the infuriating words with a bribe or a tip, and skip straight into the magic reality? > The gap between cause and effect is where denial lives, because this gap obscures causality. If you practiced your baseball swing by closing your eyes, swinging the bat, going home and then, six months later, having someone tell you whether you connected and where the ball went, it would be very hard indeed for you to improve your performance. > Any time the consequences of an action are separated by a lot of time and space from the action itself, the people who profit from that action will be able to obscure the harm it does to you. —CD Small (your friends and neighbors) conversations Larger conversations Fractal Look for the patterns They propagate both ways —— #1 reason to be yourself, to be ok with being who you are, to not have to pretend to be something you don’t even really want to be: you can relax enough when out in public, or even in private, to really see other people, to really watch, and listen, and enjoy them in all their differences, instead of just assuming they all got something you don’t, instead of constantly being on threatened mode, instead of having to be superior, instead of all that bs. You can love people. And face it, love people is what you do. It’s at the root of every character, every story, every frisson of unbelievable awesome weirdness that comes from realizing that. “There is no neat and tidy probabilistic solution. It will never be known why the chicken crossed the road.” said someone on the internet. But isn’t “will never be known” sort of the ultimate neat and tidy probabilistic solution?? What if instead of distance from the sun it was distance from the rhythm? Where would your planet be at? This whole “the labor shortage is because you gave people too much stimulus and unemployment money” angle is basically Republicans’ way of saying, “You idiots, you fucked up—you’re not supposed to give the peasants money or power, for fuck’s sake!” 062321 > Most dramatic, though, was today’s testimony of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Mark Milley, at a House Armed Services Committee hearing to discuss the 2022 Defense Department budget. When Representative Matt Gaetz (R-FL) suggested that Critical Race Theory was weakening the U.S. military, the general responded sharply. “A lot of us have to get much smarter on whatever the theory is,” he began, “but I do think it’s important, actually, for those of us in uniform to be open minded and be widely read.” He got more specific: “I want to understand white rage, and I'm white, and I want to understand it. So what is it that caused thousands of people to assault this building and try to overturn the Constitution of the United States of America? What caused that? I want to find that out….” Our military, he said, comes from the American people, “so it is important that the leaders, now and in the future, do understand it. I've read Mao Zedong. I've read Karl Marx. I've read Lenin. That doesn't make me a communist. So what is wrong with understanding—having some situational understanding about the country for which we are here to defend?” Milley said. 062421 Why does the chicken keep crossing the road? We can all make up pretty much whatever Bulldog we want or need to to get us through the day My question is: Why do we want so badly to get through the day? What do we think is on the other side? What if AI. Ok. What if dissimilarity to humans isn’t a defect? (why recreate humans anyway? we can literally do that already in ways that are pretty fun, though admittedly a lot more squishy and at times awkward) What if it’s not a question of better or worse or real or limited or any of that. What if it is its own species—getting born right in front of and in response to our faces. You don’t have to be mean to be strong And showing strength isn’t (necessarily) being mean. Focus on the real thing, the unambiguously real, alive creature, character, moment, snatch of song, pigeon, whatever—everything else is held together by those, in whatever way you want or need. Just your own cleverness usually isn’t one of those kinds of things. And being aware of your audience’s needs and desires isn’t necessarily manipulative. 062521 It’s simple, really. All you have to do is be less of who you don’t want to be (aren’t) and more of who you do want to be (are). That’s basically it. The tricky part is, you have to do it every day, for the rest of your life, no matter how many days have already gone by, or how few you may have left. 062521 Why she was sometimes “fun” or seemed loving even: She saw what was unattainable by her methods, even as she continued to employ them with calculated force toward her insatiable need for attainment. She cherished it and at some hidden level lamented its loveliness as it slipped through her grasp; her grasp was not attuned to the genuine and unforced. Part of the reason I always hate this place a little and want to move even though I for some reason haven’t been able to yet is surely that I’m afraid of people, especially poor angry people like my neighbors, but I wonder if another part is that I’m never going to feel at home here, fully, because the ghost of her presence will never fully dissipate. And leaving would make something become real that I’m used to leaving in the wings, fluttering, always only almost real. I kind of don’t trust anyone. At least not anyone above a certain age, well past which I am. But I miss trusting people. I miss that feeling, that oozing into warm caramel mud, that honest sunshine, that lips-bared full-toothed laugh that only comes out when you feel safe but alive. One thing’s for sure, I don’t want another beard. Look, my friend: the old fuel is gone, rochambo is gone, switch is gone, all those places and all those scruffy characters, the open mic behind the bar inside the grand old hotel, they’re all gone. Gone wherever the smoke went, when it no longer had any place to go but up in itself. But see I think this is a trap—the temptation to leave it at that, instead of asking, yes, god bless; and what now? Life force is a wave. You and me, we’re just the water. Well gol dang, that sounds just smart (ass) enough to be true. Dear future me, lemme tell you a story. No, this is it. I mean, yeah, I already am. Have been. This is it. This is the “show” lol such as it is. This scribbling on a napkin is, apparently, all there is or ever will be, from me at least. So here’s to it—and here’s to you, future me. My incompetence in no way stems from a lack of love—either comin or goin. I got plenty, and I got plenty to give. I dunno, I just think it’s important to point that out, even if only for the entertainment (misty-eyed one assumes or at least hopes (is hope a kind of assumption?)) of the invisible trout, who, we’ve just been informed by a shady voice off in the wings, is also future me. So you’re saying I turn into a trout? That’s how this thing ends? Well, not the whole thing. Just— Yeah—just your part. And this is how my days go, and they blend into my late mornings, which turn into a kind of upside-down and backwards night. There are signs there to tell you where to go and who you are, but of course they’re made of granite, inexorably fading, and sinking into the cool wet ground. It’s not so much “it’s affecting me more than I would have guessed” but “I’m letting it affect me more than I think I intended to.” And that’s ok? I think. But one thing’s (still) for sure: I don’t want another beard! (lol) I think that qualifies as today’s “best of show” as far as little palmed acorns go, turned-over maple cards laid out on the old oak stump, little epiphanes that ring out like strummed strings around the campfire I’m not sure it even matters as much what I do want these days—as long as I’m super fuckin clear on what I don’t. Meanwhile, everybody still plays Follow the Genius—if little Einstein liked coffee out of a pewter urn at dusk, then by god that’s what I like. Just, you know, by coincidence, you know, not, I’m not saying I’m like, his level of genius, omg lol, just, you know, weird little coincidence. Makes you think, huh? Yeah, no. It may take a few extra seconds to be honest, or maybe the opposite—maybe it’s more like giving in to the lightning—but either way, it’s the key to word power. You can write “about” anything—even something someone dear to you has requested personally, something unabashedly real—as long as you stay honest. Honesty can coexist with playfulness, btw. Eloquence is not necessarily a sin. Oh my god. I’m like the big child who is afraid to go down the water slide children much smaller than me are squealing down in innocent glee. Like, Dora’s fuckin adventures are scary to me. Why, at over a half a century on this Earth, folks!, am I still trying to “figure this out” and “give myself permission” to just be as queer as fuck as I want to be? Literally kids are doing it, every fucking day. God, it’s so old-fashioned to be this slow. I’m so fucking old, man. But yeah, honesty. Yeah. Sometimes it does take a minute, though, ya feel me? (nervous laughter—is the old man trying to sound “hip” (lol) or is he being genuine with us?) 062621 Asserting “human rights” is actually, technically, an example of begging the question. All I want to do now, with the time I have left, these however many bends of the river remain, is to be who I am. You get me? I don’t mean keep defining who I am—if I haven’t been able to do that definitively by now, it ain’t never gonna happen. Let’s fucking get real. No, now I don’t want to waste any more time defining it—now I want to use it in a sentence. And another, and another, and another—until I don’t have any words left. 062721 #whatif instead of “how do I do that technique so I can made that sound” it’s “let’s try to figure out how to make that sound” If it’s a “universal truth” we’ll stumble on it; if not, then who cares if we find some other way?! Ps: no one said “try that technique that so and so teaches” or whatever can’t be in your list of things to try. Maybe “lifting you up” isn’t the only thing to look for in a friend or group. How bout “making you less invisible” or at least “not making you more invisible”? And while you’re at it, look at your own capacity for being visible. How’s it doing? Does it feel threatened? Emboldened? What? I have more vivid memory of the feeling of true companionship than of being in sexual love. I dunno if that’s more of a reflection of physiological changes or of what I need more urgently right now. That thing you were thinking about that you thought was complex? It’s more complex than that. Anyone can be a weaver. You got only short threads? Figure out how to make something with them. Consult your ancestors too. Is kids being cruel inevitable? Is it just a fact of maturation? Or are we doing something wrong? And who is this “we?” 062921 I can’t believe I never went there when I was alive! Root beers all around, cozy fire, what have you. Beach smells But then, a small agitation in the obviousness: for most of my life it didn’t feel safe to be who I was. I got a string survival instinct but I kinda hide it under a layer of nihilism Or maybe that’s just “being a pussy” Maybe Paige really is a genius. Maybe people really are fucking mysteries Right up until the moment they die, that is. After that baby it’s all out in the open When they cut the tall tree down, that was like a warning shot. Like get ready, it’s coming. Maybe you’re not next, but you’ll be next eventually Just remember: after death, a sense of humor is the surest sign of life. Quit looking at me that way—don’t disparage the devices man! If they seem out of whack, it could be you, the way you’re looking at it, maybe something you’re holding on to that needs finally to be let go. Here’s another thing: sometimes you just walk away from something or someone or some time, and it’s never resolved. You just walked away, and then You never figured it out or felt content about it or pleased with yourself about it though you’re not necessarily full of self loathing either You just walked away, and kept walking, and it got further and further behind you For all you know, they could still be back there Although maybe everyone else around the campfire of your memory has also already walked away by now Teaching is harder and worse when I feel like I hafta butch it up So is everything If you’re not visible, people can’t find you. Obviously a blessing and a curse Depressed lonely unmotivated. Feel dumb, slow, foggy, incapable. Lack of electrical activity in the brain. Lack of connection. Stupefied by weed. Gross by processed food. Worried to death about everything from kids to cats. Guilty. Our mental health has suffered and I’ve sat here and watched it. Self loathing. Fear. I can’t even sleep on my side without snorting awake now. What’s next? Complete lack of oxygen, total insomnia? Inability to do my job, any job that’s not banal or miserable? This is the worst I’ve felt in years. I hate all my devices. They don’t help, they nag and irritate with an asinine will of their own. They fight against my intent instead of grooving with it like the old dumb machines did. The old ones had a winking mechanical intelligence that you could caress in a way. These ones have a malevolence, a cunning stupidity with hooks in an alien conglomerate of advertisement and collective hysterical mundanity. I hate them and I hate my dependence on them. Are the cats going to think we’ve abandoned them? Am I ever going to have a good night’s sleep again? Am I going to be alone and sad forever? This show sucks. Change the channel. Oh yeah, we don’t have channels anymore