S.O.S.

Lost in the great ether of WordPress. It probably was more like saved by the great ether. I worked for an hour last night writing a new blog entry. Pictures and everything. I should’a but I didn’t SOS. That is “Save Often Stupid”. That is an axiom from the old days of the 80’s of dealing with more finicky and memory challenged computers.

My blog was brilliant. I even used the word – pontificating. I’ve been waiting months to use that word. I could have gone on for hours justifying its use. After the entire entry was lost, I realized I could not recreate it with the same punch as the original. I really couldn’t remember half of what I had written so brilliantly. So I have found another writing axiom, which is “If your new blog entry is accidentally deleted and you can’t remember more than half of what you had originally written, then the entry probably wasn’t worth reading anyway.” (that is really too long for an axiom, it should be “if all is deleted then screw it!”).

Such is the life of John

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Into the Winds

I once knew a man in blue jeans that rode wild horses,
sang loud songs and drank cheap sour whiskey.
He went to his grave in a suit that he had never worn
as we listened to music he had never heard
and we toasted his life with thin stemmed glasses he never drank from.

I once knew a man who taught me to climb mountains,
to talk to strangers and to use my hands to fix broken things.
He died not from a high fall or from a miss-tied rope
but silently in his bed alone with swollen joints and sore stiff knuckles.
and a failing broken heart that could not be fixed.

I know a man who writes words and sweet poems,
loves his home and strong family
and lives to fly high into the light evening winds.
When he dies, we will surround him with his sweet family
We will read his tender words and verses,
We will cast his ashes into the light evening winds.

DSS

 

Over-Reaching World

Although the cause is scattered for all to see
The same questions are asked
as if expecting different answers
from black knit covered mouths
and missing black boxes
that still can not explain the insanity.
But resting in chairs with shoes still tied
and socks untouched are quiet voices
still clinging to appointment books,
stuffed animals and round trip tickets.
Mistakenly gone because of a miss-taken invisible route
Caused by ignorant men made lethal
by a bristling over-reaching world.

DSS

Proper Attire

“Wranglers are the only acceptable jeans. Lee jeans are scoffed at, and if you wear Levi’s, you are a dude. Cowboy hats, straw for summer, felt for winter, black hats are for wannabes. The belt buckle, you can determine a cowboy’s level of achievement by his belt buckle. So basically, cowgirls can look at the cowboy’s buckle all she wants but the cowboys better be just stealing a glance.”

That’s how a friend in Woodward, OK described the proper cowboy rodeo attire. He also mentioned that they like driving Chevy Silverado pickups, any year, any condition, as long as it has a hitch for their horse trailer. He didn’t mention cowboy boots. But  everyone knows that those athletic shoes made to look like cowboy boots aren’t allowed on the fairgrounds.

I learned this a couple of years ago when I was sent to Woodward, OK to work on some telephone equipment. After I arrived I found there were no motel rooms in town or in the surrounding areas due to the rodeo being in full swing. That didn’t surprise me, having once lived in both Woodward, OK and Dodge City, I understood the significance of the event. So I had to spend the night in my Toyota Tundra, with no cowboy hat to cover my eyes, wearing Lee’s jeans with a belt buckle a cowgirl wouldn’t take a second look at.

Since then I have acquired a Silverado pickup and through the month of July, I have kept the proper attire stashed in the truck in case I have to make the better impression at the front desks in the motel lobbies. July is rodeo month throughout Oklahoma, Texas and Kansas.

And all of this time I thought you could tell the experienced cowgirls and boys only by how well they negotiated the arena’s bleachers.

Such is the life of John

Size Matters

I am noticing something. The cell phone, I’m sorry, they are called smart phones now, are getting bigger. Remember when they were shouting the praises of miniature electronics.  Now they are approaching the size of the early PC Tablets. How do ya make a call using those huge things.

So I have decided to join the lunacy where it counts. I am resurrecting my jumbo sized calculator and my man-sized TV remote control. I’m tired of losing track of my remotes. And I’m tired of using my smartphone’s virtual and physical keypad keys as an improvised calculator. My fingers are way bigger than what they accommodate.

As the picture shows, both of these beauties are of the size that makes them the most usable and UN-losable gadgets of the home. Yes, they are both totally functional plus the heat they give off can keep you cozy and warm while watching those old late show movies on those cold winter nights.

E.

Working It Man

I feel that from the time that the earth was no more than a smoking swirling ball of hot mud my course was set.

Oh I do different things each day and make decisions whether to turn right or left eat high fiber low-fat or suck up liters of caffeine rich watered down CO2 induced sirup while deciding to say Hi how are ya brother or just fuck you but my course is set from the time I wake up from my miserable sleep at 3 am until I pull off my shirt pants and socks and crash into the tight sheets of that motel room mattress all the time trying to believe life is comfortable the food is good and I will live forever. A middle class chump working my 10 hours each day pulling together a living trying to impress the man just earning that lucky dollar I wish I could stuff into every birthday card I keep telling myself I will send each year. Just waiting for the day I will take my last breath crap my pants and be carried out feet first just to go up into a blast of white smoke and poured into a brass urn with a screwed on lid. The final screw.
What else do we do?

E

( to learn about E, read About)

It Begins

Where it begins
the sentence the verse the thought
the hesitant ink
pressing the pen hard to the corner of the page
scribbling to get the letters flowing
The first w the h the e then r and e
Words from stuttered syllables
of rhythm, of near rhyme
a pause here …. a space         a new line
A moan ….. a sentence is spilled
and a thought is born

DSS

We the People

–

We the People, we who remember.
We are the pushed, the shaken and the torn.
The good are taken from us,
some taken to lead,
some to do our bidding
some to succeed,
some to die.
We the People, we who remember.
We are the hard-working and the builders,
the unspoken, the wholehearted.
We the tolerant, the patient, the taken advantage of.
Quiet with ideals too hard to express,
We the People, we who remember
the good of every man, of every good cause, of every dream.
We, the Children of the Mother of Exiles,
the mother who stands with silent lips.

DSS Posted 7/4/2011

Conversational Quiet

Why is it when I am with someone and there is a lull in the conversation I have the uncomfortable feeling of being responsible for keeping the conversation going? I most likely blurt something out just to break the silence. Even if it has nothing to do with any topic we’ve been talking about. Are all of we humans uncomfortable with “conversational quiet”?

I have noticed that the better I’m acquainted with someone the longer I can allow the silence to last. A silence between my wife and I can last hours with neither of us being bothered at all. But if I receive a telephone call from a complete stranger, a lull in the conversation is unbearable. M has been known to slam the phone down almost immediately upon answering. But her silent calls may be accompanied by heavy breathing, I don’t know.

All through this week while at restaurant meals with coworkers, I decided to note the maximum allowable time for silence in our conversations. No one knew of my experiments. I controlled the urge to say anything impulsively stupid and allowed the silences to only be broken by my table mate at the time. Just as I suspected, their “conversational quiet” tolerance is no better or worse than mine. The fellows I work with the least had the shortest lulls. With the one guy I’ve worked with for many years, we could practically carry on a conversation by eye movements, facial expressions and hand gestures.

So for one-on-one conversations, I declare the saying “better to remain quiet and thought a fool than to say something and remove all doubt” as invalid, void and uninformed. I really think our genetic programming tells us ” better to say something stupid to keep the conversation going than to stay quiet and remain strangers”.

Such is the life of John