The longing

Today I got friended on Facebook by a girl whom I knew in high school. She ran in a different crowd, was pretty, blonde....no one I ever felt close to. So I was amazed that she would initiate a friend request with me, someone whom she had never had any particular crossings in school. I think she was nice enough. But we didn't even go in the same classes. Just someone to admire from afar. And now, 30 years later....Facebook.

It's the longing of the middle aged man. The feeling of unanswerable longing as what was once a possibility becomes laughable. You can be the charming grandfatherly, fatherly, mentorly, senior authority figure, but you can't be a 'guy' to her...ever. She'll look, smile laugh. She will pay attention to what you say. You are important. You teach. You show. But if you forget for a moment and expose your longing.... ridicule will sandblast your eyes into jelly tarts. You sorry ass old man. You're older than my father you filthy, shirt-hanging-out, potbelly, hair falling out, bald washed up, burnt out, loser. Oh, you say you listen to our music? And you've caught a few of our references. You text, you say, know a few shortcuts...lol! It is too late for you, buddy. I'm not a girl to you and you will never be a guy to me. You are not a sexual option for me. It wouldn't even occur to me....gross! eew! ....(and this I remember ever from my real youth..."I don't think so." Over and over again. "Don't even think it...." I remember every one of you. Your miserable smarmy middlebrow, nondescript, pretty in certain light, maybe for a couple of years having a certain something, but quickly descending into a trite pudgy hog, just like your compatriots. Snarfing down the Breyers and the Bud, the Camels and the sexless life with that 'guy' who turned your head away from me, oh 25 oh 30 oh 35 years before this post, before there were blogs, before there was Facebook, before there was anything like the internet as we know it today.

The pinnacle of lassitude

Laziness, with a capital L. Not just a vice, a way of life! We lazies are the cream of the creampuffs, the jacks of all evades, lovers of laxity, dilletantes of dilatory drivel. I alone hold the title of Charmin of the Bored. That's right I'm a toilet paper...Who said that? Manager, I want this man arrested and given a shake down...and a good flushing out besides. Now, where were we? You see, the height of laziness of not a height at all but a deep fundamental dephth from which few can rise. It's an obscure affliction, wherein, one by one, our resolutions to focus, to stick to the task at hand, to rise early and perform the same endless hopless dreary mindless waiting to get sick, waiting to get old, waiting to get a social security check...waiting to die. To die, perchance to suffer, in eternal torment... or come back as a bug, or a restaurant lobster, or a maggot under a rock, or those gold flies flitting from poop to poop in the dogyard. Or maybe that kid in the middle east who right now is having his first right distal phalanx lopped of with a pair of garden shears. I've f*ck&d enough people over, if you add up all the karma points to justify that. Yet we want to better our betters. We want to rise above and be good citizens, solid members of the community. Oh but no one sees my porn, no one knows I haven't seen my family in a, hmm what shall we call it? A dodecade? More like a dodecade and a half. But I the pinnacle, the mensch, the guter mensch, sally yonder to face my adversaries with the manly virtues of self abnegation, indifference to pain of limb, fear of small enclosures, biting vermin and oppresive dust, mold and fumes of all types from diesel to the cheapest ass nostril acid bitter sickly sweet pink plastic bottle lung constricting eye watering throat closing heart arresting perfume that every skank from here to the coasts thinks makes her smell purdy.

The metadata mantra

"ALL ACTIONABLE METADATA SHOULD BE DISCOVERABLE METADATA"

This refers to humanly actionable metadata, but in searching out the phrase "actionable metadata," which I came up with independently, I came upon the concept of machine-actionable metadata, which had not occurred to me. The discoverability refers to legal discoverability. I have not thought through the recursive aspects of this.

I have often been asked

I have often been asked, why do you do the things that you do.  Why, the relentless self-destructive vices, the lack of integrity, the foolish indifference to your destiny.

Why, when with just a few minor cosmetic changes you could be swimming to Rio with the sharks.  Too metaphysical for ja?

Ach, lassen Sie mich hilfen mit einem flasche bier, noch ein bier, ein feines bier, mit hopfschen und milchlein um zoll getrunken zu werden.  Wunderschoen, gar nicht.

They want me back

In order that all this fine blogging not be taken down, I have received email requesting that I sign in.  Well, here I am, still alive almost 2 years later.  Not everything has yet come to pass, that must.

My Last Post

This will be my LAST POST. It has been a good experience blogging here. However my identity is about to undergo a permanent overhaul and it will no longer be practicable to blog here, or perhaps anywhere. Goodbye.

One year ago

I was about to start a whirlwind tour of a place on the west coast that we seriously considered living. It rang to the tune of Laura Nyro's 'Goodbye Joe'--a song you should hear at times of great change in one's life. But that did not come to pass. No mountains, no Pacific ocean. Instead I am going back, back, back to where I came to here from. And are the old demons of 10 years ago stirring and whooping it up to be free from the catacombs of my brain. And another part of me fears, with a terror like none before, and waves of unspoken guilt, fear, sadness, remorse, and resignation, flooding me with tears and thoughts of being trapped, trapped in a karmic cage of my own making. I could be looking at a loss of everything. I have known that payback time was coming. May my beloved be spared the grief and privation that I alone deserve. But yea only He who is just can exact justice, and his ways cannot be divined by our imperfect and sundered souls. They smile in your face, all the while they gonna take your place, the BACKSTABBERS, BACK STABBERS! SMILING FACES, SOMETIMES, PRETEND TO BE YOU FRIEND. CAN U DIGGIT CAN U DIGGIT? I am Judas but Judas could be Jesus too, if but would. Judas hung himself rather than take his fate. My fate I will suffer and I will sweat out each perfidious lie and cheat and self-serving half truth with drops of blood, urine and excrement. HOLY HOLY HOLY IS THE GOD OF HOSTS. BLESSED IS HE WHO COMES IN THE NAME OF THE LORD HOSANNA IN THE HIGHEST. Elohim Adonai Amen.