Category: Uncategorized

A Beautiful Time

I had a beautiful time last night, thank you. I again attended a friend’s birthday. This friend is 90, vivacious, intelligent, artistic and fun. She is, like, another role model for when I’m 90, or better, for when I’m sixty. She enjoys life with a buoyant spirit. Her home is rich with art, especially her own. She presented me with a piece of art last year of a curled cat sleeping with the serene sweetness cats project, but with ears tilted and attuned, listening, announcing, I am asleep, and I am aware.

Also met some new folks and visited with some charming friends I’d not seen in a year, who came back for the bday celebs. In talking with one, Mo, about my science fiction writing (they should know not to ask me as a writer, what are you writing, because you’ll be informed, in depth), and how I play with concepts regarding technology granting virtual immortality through serial resurrections, she talked about how troubling she finds these ideas. Which I react with as, yea! Good. Tell me more.

“I don’t want to share my body or abilities to meet the challenge, I want to meet the challenge but nurturing, growing and developing what and who I am.” I love this humanistic point of view. I wanted to debate merits and points, but it was a birthday party.

I was also introduced to a Belgium IPA with tangerine tones that lit up my beer buds in a pleased way. Besides that, the food was delicious, all contributed by attendees. I met more of the party honoree’s family and friends and became re-acquainted with her son. We share a name but he’s so much more charming. I always enjoy our encounters.

Hope you all meet such wonderful people, and enjoy beautiful times. The world is wealthy with both.

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Hillary’s Coverage

Heartbreaking, dispiriting, infuriating…these were my pissed off reactions to headline news of Hillary’s nomination.

Yes, I’m a Bernie but I’m not a DEB. The political cacophony ended part 1. Part 2 will begin after a short intermission. I can enumerate the madness of a Trump presidency, but if asked, I’ll put to others who do it better. As a progressive, Hillary is a middle of the road choice, but I accept her as the nominee best suited to my agenda and principles, and I’ll vote for her.

What triggered my reactions wasn’t about Trump vs Hillary, nor Republicans and Democrats, or Progressives battling Conservatives. This was about the media’s business as fucking usual, blind to their own fucking faults, and continuing as a catalyst to America’s mess. So many headlines touted Clinton as in, and displayed photos of Bill Clinton. Some barely bothered mentioning her name. As the hype that Hillary had shattered the glass ceiling was furthered, these neanderthalic publications displayed the man Clinton instead of the woman Clinton. I mean, damn it, really? Why?

As weighty discussions about Clinton vs Trump circulate, they’re asking, is Hillary warm enough, ignoring the frothing, shouting, threatening buffon opposing her without asking, is he fucking sane enough? Do they know they treat her differently or are they too deep into their shit to see it? And if it’s the latter, what does that announce about their professionalism, objectivity and just plain critical thinking?

These editors, publishers, and their instruments revealed much with their misguided headlines, and yeah –

I trust and respect them less, because there it is, their blind sexism in their front pages.

 

 

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Forest

Imagery and sentiments that whisper my name, had to invite others to enjoy it.

Roderick Wills's avatarThe Raw, Refreshing Writings of Roderick Wills

Getting dirty isn’t civil,

So we roll among the roots.

Shy sunlight peeks around,

Stretching fingers of the shoots.

Escape from concrete jungle,

To see my long-limbed friends.

Humanity is at war with them,

And yet none demand amends.

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A Little Pot In The Morning…

Make mine a quad.

Ron.'s avatarSCRAMBLED, NOT FRIED

Today, I’m only having a little pot (of coffee, that is) but tomorrow I’m having breakfast twice.  I’ll tell you all about it then.

Meanwhile, let’s get the day started right, eh?

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4

Reset

Tsk. I’d forgotten about the reset button.

I knew I had one. Every human has a reset button but I think most of us find using our reset button is like using ice cubes as charcoal briquettes. Speaking for myself, the biggest problem with my reset button is that it’s not clearly marked and easily reached. Be wonderlicious if my reset button was labeled to my navel’s left, “Press here to reset.” I’d even deal with it if I had to reach down on my bottom and thread a straightened paper clip into a tiny hole to find and press a minuscule button. But my reset button isn’t that easy.

Yet (sigh) a reset was indicated. The computers are freezing me out. I’m like a cave man, except I’m hairier, live in a house, don’t hunt, gather food at stores and markets, wear shoes, have electronic fun stuff and the electricity for them, and I don’t drive as well as a cave man. I’m reduced to not writing or writing in notebooks. I decided not to write in notebooks, except for notes, as the muses intended.

But it’s a painful withdrawal, not to sit and back space and click across a keyboard. Scenes bloom like red algae in my head. I tell myself, “Remember this to write later.” But my brain is an express lane. Only five items are permitted. Putting in notes to remember to write later bumps out my name, address and telephone number. Once they’re gone, matters like other people’s names and where I’m going have as much chance as an ice cube on a hot grill.

Took several days to remember the reset button. I owe it to Amazon. Entertaining myself, I watched a show, “All or Nothing,” about the Arizona Cardinals and their efforts to win the NFL championship. Someone made a big boo boo on the field and another player encouraged him, “Hey, that’s done. Reset.”

Yes, reset. Drop those past frustrations, errors and irritations like soiled underwear. Forgive and forget what I would normally be doing (writing) if my computer was here and working (sob). It’ll be back in two weeks, so reset.

Yes, reset. One lesson I once learned a dozen forty times is that vacuums don’t work for us as humans except when we can apply that technology to suck shit up. So I set to mind sucking that shit up and out. The other thing is that it’s not enough to proclaim that I’m resetting, dumping negative energy and going forward with a glowing positive aura. No,the things that provide me that delicious negative energy that I feast on must not only be rejected but needs to be replaced. See, that’s where the vacuum thingy comes in. Dumping the negative stuff creates a vacuum. See? Follow? Create a vision for going forward, I tells myself, as I’ve tolds myself eleven million and eleven times to the power of eleven before. That’ll bring in positive stuff to replace that negative stuff.

So, yarp, here I go again, on another day, hitting the reset button like it’s my existence’s snooze button. Let’s do this.

But first, some coffee.

0

The Computers Have Spoken

Okay, reached the coffee shop with the Thinkpad and the Mini. The Mini is used for web connections to look up information and distract me while I play with my mind. The Thinkpad would only be used for writing in Word. This is the process as evolved through the previous days.

First, whatever the Thinkpad is doing, eating resources for a while, it’s unresponsive for the first fifteen minutes. My actions have reduced the lag but that lag still exists. While it’ sharpening, I end up re-committing to calm patience by gnawing off body parts (don’t worry, they’re from my body). The Mini permits me to check mail and news, read blogs, etc, basically be a time killer while I await the Thinkpad’s permission to start writing.

But it went to crap today. The mini refused to participate in posting a comment to this blog, and then, while typing another post, the words all disappeared. Actually, that’s an incorrect description. I would type and words would not appear beyond the first two paragraphs. Oh, it would pretend to type, moving along like words and spaces were showing up but there wasn’t anything discernible to my feeble, human vision.

I shut down that post, giving up on it for now, for my TP was ready to receive me Word input. Off I went, merrily clicking along –

Dead. No warning. Lights out.

I powered up again but about forty percent of what I’d written was gone. Using computers since 1981, I have a habit of saving frequently, yet it was no more. Of course, the machine was having trouble saving. It’s behavior has been inconsistent and bizarre. All tests are ‘normal’, and no hardware issues have been found. I’ve run exhaustive tests, attempted new profiles and other battles against corruption, but it remains troublesome.

I accept all of this today, though, as signs from our new masters that I’m not to do anything on computer today. Maybe it’s a take on that wonderful short story, “Friend’s Best Man”, but it’s the machines rising up through our keyboards, instead of the animals, and my computers are trying to save me.

So, later.

If we survive the revolution.

0

Beering

I’ve decided beering is my new verb.

Why not? We once had a company named Google. It was and is, a company with a search engine.

People loved searching with Google. Remember, this was a different era, what, almost eight years ago? Google and the Internet were very different then.

People loved searching with Google so much that they would say, “Search for that on Google.” Go ahead, you can search for that on Google. Then folks just began saying, “Google that for me,” and we all understood that meant to perform a search using Google.

So I’m embracing beering in a similar way. It used to be I’d say, “I’m going to have a drink,” or “I’m going to drink a beer.” It’s easier and saves time for me to just state, “I’m beering.” For variety, I could state, “I’m aleing,” or, “I’m portering.”

And now, I’m toileting. But first, let me tell you, auto-correct made this really difficult to type.

The computer doesn’t like ‘beering’.

 

0

Bridge to Nowhere

Yesterday was a dark day but not of my usual sort. Pain of the exaggerated ‘don’t bother me, I’m dying’ breed began around the Sub-occipital muscles and stampeded my skull and my brain’s right hemisphere. Being the whiner I am, I wasn’t happy.

Suffering computer and writing withdrawal contributed to my low tolerance for pain. Hey, I’m STRESSED OUT! Writing on the old Thinkpad reminds me of traveling on an old coal fed steam locomotive. Lot of chug-chug-chug action to open windows, or even change words or write more than thirty characters in Word. Chug-chug-chug. I write in snapshots so I’ll have parallel scenes in development, requiring me to jump between docs. Chug-chug-chug. Looking up something on the intertubes…chug…chug…  Chug.  Chug chug chuuuuggg. Chuuuuugggggggggggg. The computer then paused, let out a gasp and wiped its screen, telling me, “Whoo, this is tough hauling. All up hill to get to the good data.”

So, while back at home, logging changes made and attempting more fixes, I sat back in the office chair, closed my eyes…and napped.

I dreamed during the nap. I was walking on gray asphalt. It was sunny and hot. My shadow was about fifteen degrees off true. Right was part of a bridge’s cement structure. Painted white, it was last touched up a decade or more past and its facade was worn.

All I saw was my shadow, my feet, the asphalt and the cement. Then I drew near the bridge’s end. Ahead was the gravelly dirt shoulder with heavy green weeds and brambles. I stepped off the bridge. While doing so, I looked down and saw I was stepping into a hole between the bridge and shoulder. I fell off into nothing.

Blackness rose before fear shook me awake. Telling my wife about it, she noted the bridge and it’s possible significance, and the fact that I was walking into the unknown, that I didn’t know it, and I was frightened. Yeah, but…isn’t the  future unknown? So aren’t I always walking into the unknown?

So, no simple interpretation arose, but my headache was gone, and that was worth the dream by itself.

 

2

Chemicalize Me

Turn off the word corrections

process me with dna

gmo me in the mall

market me in the home

 

spin the spins that I hear

pour the sugar into my mouth

shoot me up with immortality

Skin me with spf

 

plop me down on a couch

arm me against death

warn me against settling

And point me toward a pokemon

 

give me some credit

I’m streaming 5G

dancing while I shop

 

winter is coming

And you know nothing,

can you hear me now?

0

I’m Fine

I’m fine

Just countin days till I die

Tryin to dredge up a will to survive

veggin on tv scenes

I’m fine

Wishin death would come

Permittin me to end this run

sleepin with my eyes open

I’m fine

Talkin to my machines

Because they’re the only ones who seem to seem

to care about what I say

 

So when you ask how r u? 🙂

I don’t care if you smile and walk away

Bcuz we both know what I’ll say

 

I’m fine

 

Words from the the spectrum’s dark side

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