bonocular's Blog

I wonder how many procrastinators live their life around that phrase?

Son-of-a-gun, Jumpin' Johasaphat! Well I'll be a monkeys uncle! Dang! What's got into me? I haven't got diddlly squat to say and it's still worth it's weight in gold. Now THERE'S a bubble nobody wants to see burst, but it must. Just out of work and my brain is numb and throbbing. My ability to follow a thought process through to it's predictable end is lacking to non-existent. Work is sorta like walking in mud for 12 hrs. How regular people do it is beyond me! I mean do it AND have a life at the same time! My first true love died today. Anette Funmanchello. When she would announce herself in the beginning of "Micky Mouse Club", I would run and hide behind the our Big overstuffed recliner! I think I still blush when I think of it. Unbelievable... After I went to the movie theater to see her in Beach Blanket Bingo, I honestly couldn't eat I was so love-sick!

Depending on the perspective and/or personal outlook. Am I a builder or a spectator? Is that a wall I'm building to keep others without or a structure designed to maintain whatever within? My medications are designed to foster an outgoing attitude. When push comes to shove, that attitude is directed inward, destined to come to rest in my mid-brain purgatory. I must pay attention. A waste is a terrible thing to mind. I can't care more or less. Im sorry I passed the phone. I just panicked when I couldn't think of something interesting to say. So instead of sounding stupid, I settled to just plain rude. I really am sorry. Sorry is never having to say you love.

My hearing.  Back in 1968 a portable stereo with the detachable speakers. They must have had 2 4 inch or 6 inch speakers on each side.  Well, I'd turn the left speaker up to about an 8 and do the same for the right. I'd queue up 3rd Stone From The Sun (Jimi Hendrix), put the speakers up to my ears and Let'er'RIP. The same for my hearing. R.I.P  As one ages, so goes the hearing....(humph!!) Now eyesight?  Did someone just mention eye sight? I didn't have my glasses on so I couldn't hear you.  It's not all that uncommon   What's really a bummer is that your eyesight gets just as poor as your hearing.  Well, for me anyway.  It's like a still life watercolor that got rained on. 
So what if I did turn 60 the other day? It's significance evades me.  As far as decades goes, it's only 6th! Why should turning 60 magically make it OK to leave the house without combing (Brushing) the hair? Heck, some days  it's even OK to leave your pants unzipped, PJ's still on and floppy slippers hanging onto your feet. Is all this the significance of sixty? Hey Aqualung! 

I don't think I felt this way last year (not that I could remember ANYTHING for more than a week)  Remembering John Lennon this year has motivated me to try to remember friends and lovers and how I was musically related to them.  My first wife is the one who Beatleized me.  She would write the lyrics down as if she were writing a letter.  She wrote me the lyrics, and a short note on a portion of a brown paper bag. " I want to tell you, I feel hung up but I don't know why......."   I saved that and other keepsakes in my sisters  RCA stereo. A tiny brown block with two flowers coming out with a plac on the bottom say, "May gentle Times Come Your Way"  Dec 8th, 1980 is also an anniversary of one of my back surgeries  While I was waiting to go into surgery, I was playing all the Beatles songs I had recorded on cassette tapes..   When I woke up after the operation, almost all the nurses on the floor informed me of John Lennons death. The first thing they thought of, was me!  John wasn't just another artist, he was the person who's general musical attitude silhouetted   my own. He voiced my thoughts  He sung my deepest secrets. Mine and a million other people. I was claustrophobic in my solitude.  Floating freely in a, frigid  universe.   "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans"  I was in an anesthetic death when he died and our paths didn't even come close to crossing in front of the statue of Liberty! 

Usually, you can tell by the "subject" title weather or not there is anything of substance in the body of the email. Alas, alls I wanted to do was let you know I was thinking about you quite a bit lately.  I think some one on one with your mom would make things more real for you whilst you are <---(Power flux, lights flicker, computer starts buzzing and clicking)
Now it's Tuesday, and I was under the impression all train of thought was lost. but it's all coming back now. Your search for self has required you to clear the clutter and take inventory. My absence I believe, allowed this to happen sooner because you didn't feel the need to explain yourself. I don't think that's imagining me more important than I am thinking my presence alters your behavior. Does it?
 It pleases me and warms my heart to see you unfold your loosely wrapped layers of protection to expose your tender being. Safety, trust and love turns into Love, Trust and safety into Trust. safety and Love. The triad of existence.
It saddens me to realize this email will not be sent. Instead I will copy it and use it as a blog.
We all are unfinished. That's how I recognize other peoples advances. 

Alright. I know where the tripod is, and I have a working cable release. I've watered the corner flowerbed. I have already moved the park bench so that it is facing the corner lot. I watered the parcel and I've spied some alpha lightning bugs blinking bright and bold. I wonder what a lightning bug would look like if I aimed the camera at the flower bed, left the shutter open for a couple of blinks to catch the "blink" of a beckoning bug. I've just blogged myself into action.  I'm off to the park bench, camera and tripod in hand, and an elusive image in my mind. No, wait a minute, that elusive image is a latent flashback from years gone by. Bye.  

I am taking my own advice and placing a title onto an unplanned blog entry.  Why do I spell freak the way I did in my title?  I may, one day, write a blog about that.  Let me just jott that thought onto my, "hafta do things when I can"  list.  Right now, I don't want to find the list, get a piece of paper, (I really did not fall for the paperless society) 
Speaking of societies,  I never did consider myself a hippy.  I was more of a freak, in a hippy sort of way.  It didn't bother me. I never had the gray matter to process and hold the rules. Being without pictures I didn't have a backup to my hard drive. Bummer.    

Seize the moment!  Its a bit frustrating especially when I have an excess of moments without enough gumption to seize anything! I remember writing a bio-rhythm program and I am picturing the graph it produced. Only rarely did the physical, emotional and motivational  attributes peak simultaneously with a high degree of self worth. Lately it seems when I'm motivated to do something and feeling creative, the surge of energy is enough to short circuit my synaptic infrastructural super highways. Trying to hold onto and act on a thought is akin to playing "Where's Waldo?"  I know as I get older, I tend to cry in my beer more often. The difference is when I was younger, I would drink the beer after I cried in it.  After I made my bed, I'd lie in it.  Now-a-days I don't possess the memory required to be a good lier although I get plenty of sleep. Actually I do too much sleeping and not enough dreaming. But I digress......
Right now,( the moment), I want to listen to and play along with James Taylor while writing something in my blog.  It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring. 
That's another can of worms I don't want to open just yet!

It sounds so cold. Manipulating a persons thought or sub-thought.  My mind being of nimble state, takes the detour since its passage is less corrosive, and therefore the path of least resistance. I depend on a slingshot to inject me into the same orbit I had been manipulated from. My task was to find my e-mail and start a letter. Send it off.  My detour was a Google tour.  Amazed anew renew. My point of view is always compromised when I write it down, because I change words seeking a correct spelling more than a reflective philosophy.  I ran THAT thought cold as was left sitting in the computer chair, "Now What?" a re-boot wasn't required but it sure sounded more pro-active. I roll my neck to try to get a good "Pop!" It didn't work this time. The only thing I felt and heard was the grinding. A bit like Roller bearings around a stick-shift. The shoulder slots are next. Just to get a good stretch from them. Arch the back, tighten the thighs, watch out for cramps in the calf, rotate the ankle, stretch and wiggle the toes. (Reboot)......   Why is there never any gold at the end of my rainbow? No 4-leaf at the end of my clover. Just a..... sigh........after a re-boot.
 
Whats it like being me?
( Woe! That wasn't a reboot- That was a core change!!)

My last concern before I go to sleep is to make sure I wake up to be able to sleep again.  The life cycle of a dormant moon. This moon had had it's meltdown and it's warranty reevaluation long before the eyes turned dark. Festering puss filled rotted cells of the intestine wall will continue to manufacture "le essence de feces" since It has more staying power on old, dead skin pores. Hell, a good fart is something to celebrate!. Shakes some of the salt from the celery!

I believe every time I write, I try to address myself in another reality, another state of mind. It is not an attempt to convince anybody of my mental deficit. Kept preserved, but  abused. 

I wondered why my dad would go into his car in the driveway, and drink whiskey, then start telling his war stories so he'd not have the same nightmares every time he closed his mind."What was there to cry about?" ,I would think. I never possessed the raw ingredients to develop a concern for my fellow Carbon Units. His story. Brutal. I never believed him and I certainly don't remember the stories except for the death and secrets and a large portion of unfairness and abandonment

My major reactive emotion I would experience talking to my dad was fear and shame.   The fear was first because it was finite. It had a beginning, a body and an end. The shame still stings my core. Shame is the kernel that fosters the festering puss filled cells of the intestine. Of the heart and soul. Systemic and highily metastatic it's habitation is highly fatalistic.  A degenerative atmosphere for a regenerative microbe. 
That's the way the cookie crumbles!

First and Fore-most I need to remember to title things.  I'm thinking primarily about this blog but maybe it would prove beneficial in other areas of my life.  Re title my "marriage" speech from,"to,"....That's right I NEVER had a marriage speech!  What was I thinking 8-)   
I left the power-washer out in the yard.  Could be I left it there as a trophy-of-sorts? 
Two years ago....maybe to the month (April) maybe not (May, June) I went to Harbor Freight and came out with a 2500psi power washer supreme. I set it up in the drive, made sure this "switch" was turned to the left and the Other "switch" to the right making sure not to alter the "middle" adjustment what-so-ever. It took about 3 anahalf hours when it shudda been 15 minutes. I Made sure the wheels were not backwards, the spark plug thingy was taken off and another thingy put on in place of the first thingy before I attempt to fire it up for the first time. That was my largest worry. That and maybe I put too much oil in the crank case, or the engine itself NOT mixed in with the gas That was the year I couldn't fire up my brand new power washer.
 I had been traumatized from then, right to to Now, well.......last year when my son on my wife's side, brought it back to Harbor Freight and got me another brand-new Power Washer.  He brought it right back to the same garage that housed the power washer that was DOA back to the factory.  Ya know, it STAYED in that garage for a FULL year (give or take) until today. This year, just to minimize my anxiety, I took pictures.  Pictures of the Power Washer still in the untouched, unopened box, to step 1 in the users manual. I took a picture of each all the steps hroughout  the manual until it turned into an Owners manual. I took one last picture.  As I was finishing off my power drink, he drove up and parked his van right next to the power washer.  I took a picture of him and the finished, but not yet powered up power washer. I hadn't told him, but today, THAT was a place of honor. While we were just standing around Up drives my wife. She only stayed a minute but, for that one, long, uninterrupted minute, the three of us and the power washer where getting BONDED. 
After she left again, he started it and let it run 20 minutes and turned it off. It worked.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it!

About a week ago, I was in a writing mood, so, I came here. I didn't have a title ready, so I just wrote the entry, answered the PG question and posted.  NOT.  Without the title, that entry went to EP's blog heaven. I wrote about certain questions and observations I had regarding my history and how it had contributed to my present personalty. I hadn't believed until recently that my history still effects my behavior, my problem solving and even my present thoughts. As I've said before, I never thought of myself as a person who was lamenting over their lack of a childhood.  But the older I get, the more pissed I get and the more pissed I get, the quieter I get about being pissed. The longer this cycle goes on, the more pressure is built in the pressure cooker.  Lately I've been patting myself on the back because I was the only person in my family who hadn't been institutionalized or attempted to kill them-self. The reason I've been doing this soul searching is because the older I get, the more I regress to earlier solutions to solve conflicts. This is not good. Although killing myself is not a present option, it was an option I had and discarded in the past.  It was this observation that sparked the realization that even though I learn from my trials and tribulations, it doesn't mean a future solution is going to be as wise. I have hope because the more I regress, the more passive I'm likely to become. The more time I have to think, the less time I have to act. All thought, no action. Life by default. 

That's the way the cookie crumbles.

I

The weirdest thing just popped into my head.  I was wondering who would come to my funeral if I were to die.  Humph!!!

What possesses me?  What is it that compels me write in a blog?  Not just any blog, but MY blog.   Writing a blog and making it available to EP's public satisfied a perverse fantasy of having.....well, lets just say its not all that different from professing to be an exhabitionest. (Even the spell checker couldn't help me out with THAT one!).  Its like Im in the middle of Central Park in New York, and feeling as though the whole world is listening to me as I speak.  It wouldn't have to be Central Park, but that's what popped into my head.  
     It's been a long time since my last blog.  When feeling empty, I can't even find the words, let alone a pen and paper. (I know I KNOW I'm showing my age!)  But when I'm void of feeling, everything else is lost in the abyss somewhere between my ears.  
     I'm still hung up about having no pictures of me.  It's even more sad knowing the end result is exactaly what this action was designed to do. No anchor, no rest, no past. No eyes in a photo for me to look into to see if they looked like me.  I gave her alot of power so she would see by example just what trust really was. Funny though.  I felt she would benefit from me being trustful and truthful and as a result be more like me.  In hindsight I discover that she had made me more like her. Protective and non disclosing.  Silent and sad. Resentful. 
     It was just a thought anyway.

I knew precisely what I was going to write.  Here comes Nirvana singling and playing any thought out of my ears.  I now know just how elusive my memory is.  Why do I find it so hard to accomplish more than 1 task at a time? Sometimes the queue of misplaced thoughts gets pretty long. They then become lost.  Maybe they are misplaced AND Lost? I've gone through the alphabet trying with each letter to remember the topic.  That was a good idea although it didn't work. Maybe if I gave it a title, I would have remembered it? The last thoughtful thought is misplaced and/or lost.

I haven't been on line (Here on line I mean, EP) for a bit. Seems it matters who else is on line.  I thought admitting this meant I didn't care for the other people I have had the pleasure to talk with.  Well I do care but its hard to see a friend go regardless. My blogs have suffered (after all blogs are talking to yourself and leaving the live microphone turned on.)  The other day I went out and bought a gas powered power washer. I dreaded buying it because I was afraid I couldn't put it together, or start it after I did.  Well, its put together!! (Looking down at floor and shuffling my feet).......I just cant get it started! Sometimes I think I know the future. Then, I know I'm loosing it. When I find out my prediction has come to pass, I know i've officially Lost It!!!!  Its time to start asking questions to get this major purchase up and running!  I hate feeling stupid. I know I'm not, but I hate feeling that way. I know other people enjoy sharing their knowledge or gifts but I hate asking anyway.  I guess there is a phycological classification for this dysfunction.  Maybe its called.....................................stupid?  LOL  Anyway, that's the only marble rattling around inside my cranium today.  That's my story, and I'm sticking to it!

Spring Challenge is upon me.  On THIS side, weighing in at 157 pounds,"The Yards Keeper" ... And on the other side coming in as a Heavy, Pain In The Butt....  "The Lawn.".  A neighbor came walking by the house and offered to maintain my yard for me since he does all the neighbors yard.  I thanked him for his offer, but I was waging a war with the lawn for 3 years now, and NOW, its not a job, its a principal! This year, the lawn going to change to lean, green dream Machine.  I went to harbor freight and picked up an airator, basically a push lawn mower with spikes to plow up the dirt. On that trip, I also picked up a solar shed light so in the summer, it may become my "Man Cave". LOL  Got my hoes, rakes, edgers and shovels.  Ideally, I can clean out the garage enough to make me a man cave there!  But I can't aim my sights THAT high yet! I just settle for a painted sign in red letters.....Man Cave. Present Password to the man answering the secret knock.  Sorta reminds me of the "Red Green Show". I'm just not sure that is the name of the show.  Where was I?  Ohhh Yea...so I bring the airator into the bed room to assemble.  I laid the plans out on the bed, threw the hardware on top of the directions, with the big stuff on the floor.  I assemble this thing in 35 minutes even without tools!  I went outside to start poking holes in the soil.  I was working for 5 minutes when the screws started falling out.  That was the end of ANY manly statements after the work was done!  The next day, I grab the tools I should have had in the first place, and sat down in the garage (excuse me, MAN CAVE!) When I was finished re tightening and replacing the screws, I started poling MORE holes in the lawn and THIS time it lasted 20 Minutes before more pieces started falling off!  Today, I went down to ACE Hardware, got 4 screws and lock nuts, a set of screw drivers and a couple of pliers. (Man Tools). I Finished poking holes in the lawn, checked the screws and all were still tight! ("WINNING"!) Next I grabbed the solar shed light and started putting it together. THAT was easy.  The instillation is another story.  I have tried 3 times to drill a hole through the side of the shed.  The last Hole, I got a wood chisel in there and started hammering. Tomorrow, I Plan to drill more holes enough to let me work the chisel out, wire the solar panel through the shed to the light, fertilize the lawn AND maybe take some pictures.  It depends I guess! but,
That's My Plan, and I'm Sticking To It!

Call me crazy. 35 to 40MPH winds and what am I doing?  I’m walking a metal detector on my front and back yards.  We have neighbors that just bought  the house.  What would they think?  I betcha we could buy it back from them at a very good price!  8-)

The sun is out and it’s a warm 60’s low 70’s temp.  First time this season but we are getting sustained winds at about 30 - 40 with gusts maybe 55.  it’s a storm without the wet! In addition to what I’ve already told you about my outside excursions, I also went waking the front and back yards taking pictures.  I really pity anybody who had to see that!  8-)  Should I introduce myself with a pitcher of milk and cookies? Or Beer and nuts.  I hear the woman is working in medicine, and he’s a cop.  (I guess we could deep six the milk and cookies unless that is their “nick-names”).  THAT reminds me of....Naaa. Nevermind!
Tomorrow I venture out to Harbour Freight.  Let's see if I could keep myself from going into a buying frenzy!! If I had a web cam, I'd brodcast it!......WINNING!!!! 
Thats My Story, And Im Stickin' To It!
 

Its been a long winter! I feel as though I already went down the third time when on my way down, I spy a purple crocus staring up at me! Yet another dose of fresh air. I think of Stephanie in my old stomping grounds when-ever the first crocuses penetrate this seasons virgin soil. Last I knew, she was an Aides Survivor! She had a personality that the aides virus couldn't survive! (jk)  The Freest free spirit!

I wonder if she still is alive.

Maybe it was the third time.

Flower