Pulled a dead deer out of the pond, today. It probably died last night. There were hundreds of flies on its back, its eyes were bulging, mouth open with tongue sticking out. Had to walk knee deep into the pond to tie a rope around its neck. It looked at me with one eye. It was floating. Attached the rope behind the truck and slowly pulled the dead carcass up the ledge that surrounds the pond on one side. When the deer was near the wood side I cut the rope. It was now turned over. The part of the animal that was in the water was pinkish, not the light brown of the deers coat. It was a bit swollen, didn't look swollen when it was in the pond but now it looked chubby. There was a white foam around the lips. it must be expelling gas because although there were no visible wounds the odor was that of decay. It is now on the edge of the woods waiting for all the carrion and critters to come to feast. At least it is out of the pond and the fish have a moment of ease.

GoOGLe

common man becomes uncommon
the world at his feet
the knowledge of generations
generations of knowledge
every where
every thing
and life has been forever changed

little bits of yesterday
lots of tomorrow
dreams
wishes
wonders

gOOgle
 the all seeing eye
gave us the tool
GOogle gave us the opportunity
go where we choose
to use our minds
to expand our horizons

to give ourselves a glimpse
of greatness
of struggle
of weakness
of glory
of all the challenges

and our hearts are bigger
our minds richer
and our spirits enlightened

one algorithm
changed the planet
the rapier
to eradicate ignorance
to wipe out fear

and the fearful
with the ignorant
fight the knowledge of change
or the change of knowledge
and try forever to bury us
in the desert of despair
the emptiness
of control through
suppression

Without the song of the spirit

the land of gOOgle

is no mans land

and noMAN is lost in the desert
if ignorance and want
living with fear and greed

without the algorithm of
GOOGLE
we are adrift in a sea
aboard a ship
with no rudder
with no oars
with no direction
with no where to call home
merci.


i


 

Dry

Leaves clap with the breeze
A chime resonates
percussion
ears vibrate
message to brain

birds hop through leaves
travel to parched dry lawn

Stillness
hot summer day
a hushed melody
heat sings into night

Distant pond shrinks
cowering from heat
shoreline reaching,stretching
fish hurry to cooling depths.

ticks slow

I did not die today
I don't know why

maybe tomorrow
when then I will
I shall
but
until then

Live I will
and go on
with life
as does one
awaiting to die

There is much to be done
in the meanwhile
papers to sort
to put ones life in order
not to leave the mess for others

In doing so
it is difficult
as the proccess begins
there is courage and purpose
get the job done
sort through
put things in order
discard the irrelevant

And then
one old magazine discarded
old bills discarded
old note reminder to buy milk discard
birthday card from him, ah, a sweet memory
put it on the side, to discard after

papers to keeo, medical bills paid
medical records of tests results
bank statements keep
another card, ah, she is such a good friend
we have been through much hardship together
it is feels good to know we have a friendship
that has lasted the years, her children are
grown with children of their own
odd to think she, a granny

The time it does fly
her card is like a hug
felt from all the miles by

Names addresses and phone numbers
those we knew, before they died
why keep those
I often wonder why
and then I remember
so i won't forget
when i want to remember their names
and i can't recall
I have a place to check
because I want to remember
who they are
that were in my life
all the years that so quickly went by

When living
at times
the clock ticks slow
and we wait for the time to go
till the time we want for the clock
to stay still, a moment longer
stop, stop
let this moment last longer

The time that passes
we judge and vote
to let it go
to keep it close
the time of our life
Oh, where did it go.

Moving

   When it is time to move on the past moves to the present
Packing one box of memories brings forth yesterday
The gift you got when you got engaged, one of which got broken
The gift from a parent
The gift you inherited
The thing you bought when you went on vacation that time
The time you really enjoyed yourself with the person no longer alive

You are still in the room with the box and wrapping paper, only one shelf's worth of memories are safely packed in the box
And already there is a melancholy of fatigue

All the time travel to all those places with all those people whom you knew who are no longer here

And the things that have collected dust, that you haven't looked at in months that you never use, that you will have no room for in the new place,
And yet, it is difficult to part with those links to the memories of who you were
Before you are who you are
And you should part with them
But maybe you don't want to
You are not ready to let them go
Those ghosts of yesterday that make you feel the feelings you felt then
That you do not feel now

The feelings of youth
The feelings of newness
The feelings of discovery
The feelings of playing

And the box is half full and the fatigue has slowed you down
You look at the cabinet and the shelves yet un packed
And the mind flashes to the closets waiting with their things to go

And it is time to sit and rest
The rest of life is still going on
And it is time to close  the past
To prepare a meal of the present.

2012 Olympics

  It has been a few days since the close of the London Olympics. An we are  still disappointed by the performance NBC did not do. Once every four years hundreds of nations join together to give their young people the opportunity for an international competition. This is a chance for all the peoples who are represented at the games, to share pride, anticipation, and joy. That they all contribute their time and dollars to 'play' the games.

  England and all her people, as China four years ago, made the effort to show the world a good time, and that they did. What of it we saw.

  NBC could have shown us the people, they could have shown us the other medal winners from the countries who only sent a few athletes, and the countries that won their first ever Olympic medals, but instead they opted to show us Mary, Bob and other NBC staff, as if we have not seen enough of them.

   Then, there was the lack of information, like with the Equestrian competition. They once in a while told us that a horse was gelded but not where it came from, Arabia, England and so forth. How high they jumped, is that the way it always was, how about some history?

   NBC really went on the cheap, instead of showing us an international event they chose to stay with the home time, the English and the Chinese, DUH! there were more countries competing. And the opening ceremony was washed over, and the closing ceremony was shown from the blimp with the lights in the stadium the star attraction. What a waste of energy. England should especially be annoyed with NBC, all the volunteers who dedicated themselves to putting on a good show, that we never saw. Even the diving stunk.

  Even their writers are tired, with dumb dialog stating nothing to give perspective or history or charm or interest to the games. We saw lots of parents of the American athletes, who cares. We came to see the Olympics, when will they show us the Olympics. If this was the ancient games at Greece or Rome, they, NBC would have been fed to the lions, instead, they will get to do the winter Olympics and Rio.

olympics 2012

Oh NBC, there is a whole world out there
and yet you choose not to show us
There are other stars
other winners
other people
yet you care not for geography
your writers are tired
they keep telling the same story
and we hear and see no more
tis a pity
such a waste
thousands of people
and all you show us is nbc.

tolerance

     The 2012 London Olympic match of Serena Williams and Maria Sharapova. Another reminder of the inequality.

      A technician who excels is a pleasure to watch, to dream we are the star. We are in the competition using all our wits to win the day. We make believe we are in the thick of it, that we have prepared, invested the time it takes to be the best. We make believe we had the resources, the team to back us up, the strength of will to persist through the physical test, that our commitment is equal and surpassing the opponent.

     We dream about being the star, internationally renowned, recognized instantly. The thoughts of the days, shining brightly, working towards a goal that is achievable, being the best.

      And once every four years we imagine that it is us with the camera following. And we enter the arena, ready to battle. The past four years we have prepared, spent the time to hone our skill to meet the challenge.

      We are on foreign soil, representing our nation, one of the few,' the chosen, the proud '. We are anxious. The years spent fine tuning the focus, devotion, poise, strength, skill, polish. All of it, we have everything to be the greatest in the world. And we enter the arena.

      And when we win, they bow to us, they salute us, they honor us, rewards, recognition, accolades, every gift imaginable has been laid at our feet. We have earned our place at the top of the ladder, the head of the table, first in line. And no one can take that away from us, 'we are the champions', at fifteen at sixteen at thiry one, we won, and representing the country, all the people, everyone. We have made it a success for every person in our nation, big and small short and tall, mothers fathers, sisters brothers, good guy bad guy, each and every one of them. We did it for them, and we did it for ourselves. We were driven, we were pushes, we were there, and we won.

     And everybody is happy, everybody on our team, everybody that rooted for us feels sooo good, and we did that, we worked so hard for so long to make so many feel so good.

     And our manners don't matter, they did not and do not care, that we are out of control in our social skills. They make excuses for how we act. They overlook that we are rude crude selfish and ill mannered. They let us get away with everything because we are their only chance at winning and they want to feel to know what it feels like to win. The 'common man' wants to know what it is like to be a star and if they root for us, and we win, they get a little glimpse at what it is like to reach the top, and it makes the rest of their day tolerable.

It is the middle of the night
a time of quiet
when all are asleep
the place of repose
the place of replenish
the body working to repair and rebuild.

The moon light the sky
The air still, filled with the remnants of the heat of the day
All is quiet

Stillness echoes the tick
 the sound of the  clock marking the passage of time, it bounces off the walls singing the chorus, time, time, timmme
 the clack of the keyboard the base backup softening the echo  to a hum.

The cats are returned from the prowl, they have finished eating their fill for the fuel they need to keep them too in a place called sleep. They are resting, grooming each other, purring the pleasures of comfort, the security of indoors, each other, and the leather love seat where they found their favorite groove of repose.

The kitten  we call boots, still uncontrollable with his aggression, still learning his feline ways has just disturbed the peace.
He begins to jump and play at the game of attack, he rises straight up in the air like a Mexican jumping bean or a kid on a trampoline.
Gus, the elder of the two, wants no part of of the game, strolls away from the center of the stage and finds another resting spot, away from the bouncing baby kitten.

The August moon sits high, it lights the landscape, with soft shadows of dusk, the eyes can see afar and the night seems like day, letting the eyes view the hidden time, the hour of night when the creatures of the hour share the horizon as their domain, and no one interrupts. It is their arena, and they are free to roam to travel their territory to do whatever it is that they do. And there are no eyes on them, it is their tennis court, their hour on the field, their place and hour, and the moon lights the path and maybe changes their manner, on this moonlit night.

The stillness marks the surroundings, the fireplace more noticeable, it appears larger, more massive, closer. The fan overhead rolls with a silent whirr as the reflection of light spins with the shadows. The reflection of paddles softly wave images rolling in a circle on the ceiling.  The dancers are twice the measure they are reflecting the maidens tip toe with the sheer fabric anchored in their fingers, the ballet of the maidens of the fan waltzing in the night, they fill the roof of the room bringing the ceiling closer, beckoning, inviting the mind, to join with its steps in time.

Now the walls are calling.  Each painting animates, awake in the stillness, yawn, stretch, alive.

Can you hear the sound of the river by the cabin in the woods as it rushes to its destination down into the valley.  It is flowing at its pace with its partner, gravity, travelling, a journey. They have little notice of the scenery their interest only in the going, they, always together, must keep going.

Heard by the trees, those, the constant spectators, is the ripple and splash, ripple and splash, as they look to the snow capped mountain away in the distant memory of the rivers past its star of the start .  It could be day or night, there are clouds masking the time, anytime, day or night . If there is smoke coming from the cabin's chimney it is hidden by the rooms dim light, and I can not recall if there is a  fire or not. I shall wait for daylight.  There is too much magic to turn on the overhead lamp.

The queen, an African, reigning on leather with a background in earth tones holds court at another wall.  She is her alert usual self. She  reigns with no opinion, neither happy nor sad, regal in posture, elegant and noble.

Sitting below the queen, two small landscapes, with fir tree focal points, stars,  separate from the group, alone in their sphere. It is  always winter in these scenes, cold, even though there is no snow, always a chill.

Near the cabin in the woods is a chrysanthemum. A painting larger than the others, with the center of the mum filling the painting. A brownish beige with white reflections of petals.Look again at the shadows from the fan.  It is the only painting in the house that the housekeeper remarks about. She  crooks her neck and looks at it. First standing in one spot, then another. She comments about her eyes always seeing it in a different way. It seems to be growing on her.  She is not sure why.

An abstract pony rides alone on another wall. The neck stretches upward  raising the head with strong muscle, a stance that evokes ancient memories of wild mustangs free to roam, standing at the mountaintop, silhouettes  against the sky and the air and the ground.

There is a chalk of fruit in burnt oranges on a table that is anyones. It is near the larger still life, a classic of flowers in vase with splash of pink that brighten the panelling. Nestled between them  two abstracts of sombre colors, pictures that you stare at, not knowing why and what one is thinking, the out of mind experiences, the trips to other galaxies, comfortable besides the  bowl that has holes in it. Little craters of netting or a netting of craters, it would not be good to hold food, definitely a no to liquid, it would be lost forever. Would we have to use the brass door nob besides it. It was a gift, years ago, presented by a scant acquaintance. It is an official bank door knob from Wall Street. A large triangle with the door knob at the center. It is on the wall now to remind us to keep opening doors instead of closing them. It did not work rather well as a paperweight.

The two Japanese prints have villages, walkways and rooftops nestled on a mountainside. A dense population rendition of life in Japan. It is done with fine lines, and soft hints at color. A genteel view of a community of friends and neighbors. A tranquil scene,  of a peaceful place.

RELIGION

   Jesus Christ!!! Does no one question that all religions worship a male as the highest power. Does there not seem to be a control issue here. Muhammad, Allah, the father, the son and the holy ghost(perhaps the ghost is bisexual).

    Here is a hospital, it has wards because it is to care for the masses not the most affluent. Bed one needs to have the christian last rites so the priest arrives with the holy book, water, sacraments and garb to denote the status of holy person. Praying in a whisper the preacher bends over the member of the flock who will soon depart for greener pastures. All the gestures are performed according to ritual.

   Bed two has a Hasidim Jew, also soon to depart. The rabbi dons the yarmulke, and takes his holy scarf from his waistline, allowing the fringe to flutter in freedom. The rabbi, another male leader of the religion opens his holy book and begins to sing and sway to the music of the soon to be departed blessing for spending life as the good book declares is appropriate.

    Bed three is the muslim, his bed must be moved to accommodate his closest relative a imam to put his rug, that was rolled up and transported under his arm, down on the hospital floor, so he can kneel facing west, and pray to allah. His relative knows it is the hour when the holy are called to give praise, it is the law, and he cannot leave the bed, his relative is paying homage in his stead.

   The three die at the same time, at the exact same hour, minute , second. Their gods having the need to recall them from the same place at the same time. And they were gone. And their holy representatives pick up their paraphernalia and depart to the same elevator to the same exit to depart the building. They tip their hats in acknowledgement of the others, and go on their own ways.

   The hospital is not a public institution, it is a hospital funded by the proceeds, tax free proceeds of the donations paid to the catholic church, an organization whose hierarchy is totally male. And these males have asserted the rule that females have rights to lead the community from any of their official titles. That the females have the right to serve is lauded, and their right to be served, denounced. Unless of course you are Mother Teresa, living under the rule of poverty in some godforsaken hole, tending the lowliest of the flock, to ensure their affinity for her religious organization.

    The females on the planet have been subjugated because of their physical position, for  the propagation of armies of the gods they serve, so their intellectual defense of the organization they have been born to is revered by rote under punishment from the opposite sex which is physically stronger, most of the time. So the females have less ability to enforce independent thought or desire, subjugation by brute force. And they bow and praise the lord.
  
    Ah men, the mantra indoctrinated into the females generations upon generations. The word as a religious term repeated and repeated in most christian gatherings. The female receiving no standing, she is regarded as Whooo man, warnings for other man to stay away from their personal property.

   And speaking of property, each of these male institutions have ordered whooo man, the male right to dominate their physical being. It is their attempt to control the population of their allies, in an attempt to control their enemies, and still the female, with little time left from their religious duties of paying homage to the male and his instituted laws of his instituted ruler of the realm, follows ten paces behind and bows to their laws.

   And now, in America, there is a faction of male, which believes there is no place for this institution, or rather still. believes there is a separation of the lines of living these beliefs and the law of the land that serves All the people whether or not they hide their income in declaring religious donations on the income tax forms. Allowing for the rights of a small body of individuals who do not wish to continue with the male domination indoctrination.

    Why, as yet, has no one challenged the legality of income tax deductions as discrimination against those who have not as yet, and I reinforce the as yet, formed a non traditional religion for the express purpose although not declared in the minutes of the formal meeting to describe the purpose or teachings of said institution, to funnel funds away from supporting the institution of the government of these united states of America.

   As yet, the females, have no majority of insult, there are the old school students that repeat the mantra ahhhhhhmen, with an orgasmic delight, thanking them every day, all day long and forever for their, the females right to forever praise the male, and his allowing them, the females to be seen in their, the males, presence, albeit in some groups, totally hidden from view, so they appear as black fabrics floating in the wind, and not individuals.

   Ahhhhh the religious right! Their dexterous exercise of freeedom!

London Olympics 2012

     NBC's performance for the opening of the 2012 Olympic Games in London England was less than mediocre.
     \
     The sound was no adequately adjusted for us viewers to hear the commentary, which was also wanting in substance. There was not a clear explaination as to what was going on. We watchers waited to try to glean an idea of what was evolving. It was not until the turf was being removed that we got the inference of the evolution of a nation/country. Tis a pity, because it is a good story. And a nation of people invested of themselves to make an acceptable appearance.

      Besides that, the camera work bounced around from site to site without weaving the story, it was all of a sudden in one place then another. It, the camera, did not attempt to put a face to some of the thousands of volunteers who gave, to make the games work. We got to see the royal family, and the stars of Britton, all the faces we already know. We never got  a glimpse of the thousands of volunteers. We never saw any of London, or the land outside the arena. They told us of the works project to rebuild a depressed area, but they never showed us what they were talking about. They brouught us to London and never  showed us anything that is London. They showed us all the bodies that filled the arena, and never the faces that went with them.

    There also was no mention of the logistics, how were the blankets illuminated, how many people volunteered, how did they feed all those people. So many interesting facts about the openning ceremony and how they made the event possible.   Worse yet, the questions were not asked. Hey, they just didn't want to spend the money, they couldn't be bothered.

     A nation extended itself to present to the world a picture of who they are and how they grew, and it was lost to the incompetence or the indifference of the broadcast network.

     And then, when the games began, they chose to spend all the time on the stars of the US Olympic team and never shared with us the other teams of  the other nations.

      A sterile show, too bad the people of London, all the money invested in presenting London to the world was/is wasted.
    

Still sitting in the chair waiting for winter
The suns shine is stark and oppressive
The summer is warming the skies and driving the animal life to hunt in cooler climes.

The fauna has all but disappeared
The soil a golden brown
That rises to the sky with every flicker or breeze

There is nothing to look for
No suprises in the green
No new flower budding
No weed inbetween

There is nothing to look for
Sitting here in the same chair
Waiting for winter.

Maybe it will come with avengence
Maybe it will be a regret to wish for
Maybe it will be as oppressive as the summer
Mayge it will be
me sitting in the same chair looking for winter.

There is a sadness to the time
the less to do
the less to have
the less there is

The people unemployed
The people fighting
The people hungry
The people angry
The people sad
all here with me
sitting in the same chair
waiting for winter.

The anarchist

    My great uncle Vito was an anarchist. He wasn't much taller than a kitchen chair. I always saw him in a suit and tie. His hand was always reaching into his breast pocket for one of the propaganda pamphlets he would pass out to anyone who would reach for it.
 
    An odd memory was of the whole family seated at the dining table at grandmas and grandpas one Sunday. My long hair fell down my forehead reaching my lip. I went to move the hair away from my mouth so I could continue with my macaroni feast. Then, my great uncle began to yell at me that I should not touch my hair at the table.

    When he saw me chewing gum he asked me if I knew that chewing gum was made of rubber.

     His wife, who was not a blood relation of mine was also strange. She and he would make the trip by train from New Jersey to Brooklyn to visit his sister, my grandmother. It was a four family home. My grandparents had one of the apartments on the first floor, my uncle and his family lived in one of the apartments on the second floor.

     My great aunt would yell from the base of the stairs on the first floor, to call my aunt on the second floor because she wanted my aunt to wash her hair. It was spring and time for her hair to be cleaned. I remember being in the bathroom when the hair was being washed, the water was almost black. I felt bad for my aunt, that she had to do such a terrible thing, to touch such filthy hair. She wasn't even related to my great aunt except by marriage on her husbands side, and she was not a blood relation to him either.

      When my great aunt and uncle would arrive, all the kids would run and hide and avoid both of them like the plague. There was nothing gentle or kind or nice about either of them and we did not bring out any of the best of either of them.

      He was the only one of my grandmothers four brothers that I knew, and I did not like him at all. He was a dictator, a little guy who wielded power within the family, just because the let him. Maybe it was a mark of respect or the weakness of those under the control of another. I was too young to really get a grasp of the hierarchy of the family. He was just a guy I did not like. Not because I did not fully understand his demeanor but because he showed no kindness to anyone in the family. He denied us all a good time. And he is not missed.
 

The woman standing in the queue at the checkout counter was all in a huff about the delay. The woman behind the counter turned to her and remarked, "What are you getting so upset about? You're gonna die anyway."

what is it.
what do you mean/
what do you want
what can i do

will you help me
will you see me\

will you be there for me
what can i say

time is drifting by
the clock is ticking

and all there is
is right now
this instant
this time
this place
this circumstance
this event
this life
this is now

now is all we have
it is all there is
and yet
we plan for tomorrow
we relish tomorrow
we live for tomorrow

and tomorrow never comes
there is only right now

peace is the only place to be
it is the only time of harmony
it keeps us safe
it gives the body what it needs

like the monks in Tibet
peace harmony tranquility
one with the self
one with the earth

calm quiet peace of mind
with everything spinning around us
we stay still within the self
nirvana
know thyself
know how to create harmony with in the self
and the self will provide

there is nothing needed
once the self is satisfied
to satisfy the self
one must study what gives quiet to the psyche

can you see the place inside
the place that controls the calmness
the place of peace
the harmony of spirit

can you live with yourself
do you know yourself
there is no one else
without the self in harmony

never mind what anyone else says or does
pay attention to yourself
pay heed to the signals
know who you are
and what is necessary for your well being
with out
and with in
give yourself the best there is
and the best will be yours
the best of times
is the time of peace and harmony
within the self

if you are calm and quiet and at peace with yourself
then you have achieved the pinnacle of perfection
then you know who you are
then you have unlocked all the doors to success
the wealth of oneness with the self
knowing who you are and what you need to be
one with the universe
and the universe will be one with you

give yourself the opportunity to enjoy the freedom
of the wisdom of knowing the self

meet the self so you can live with the self

Say something funny
giggle
laugh
fun
almost fun
nothing to laugh about
just something light
a mirror reflection of us
the same stuff we see every day
laugh
joke

the life that laughs
the honey of the pot
the laugh to gether
the laugh alone

was once upon a time funny stuff
the things kids laugh at
the silly giddy stuff
that the giggles spread about
the giggles with finger in front of the face
holding in the giggles that laugh through the fingers

the youthful happiness of the young
giggle giggle
right left left right
satin curtains
velvet chairs

the colors of the past
the memories of yesterday
that is what makes us as we are today
the giggle of frogs
the jokes of worms
the laughs of toads

striped shirts
polo before polo

dungarees before jeans
saddle shoes and poodles on skirts
bobbie socks and heavy sweaters

the era of the past
the oppression of the future
the giggle of the present

what do we laugh at
the art of the thinker
the words of the mind
painted a splendid picture

dim lights and boogie music
jazz on the piano
disco on the floor
boogie nights
and jazzy midnights

streams and seaside
the foam of the oceans surf
sand and seashells
washing ashore
remnants of the past
memories of the future
home away from home
away from home at home

sand, sea, seagulls
jonathan livingston
a dream
drifting forward into today
a sweet swift of sentiment
gathering dust in the eye
a teardrop
laughing to tears
tears to laughter
just a joke for today
a giggle a sigh
a laugh in the eye
a twinkle of laughter
a smile
a giggle
another giggle
a laugh
a smile
a twinkle in the eye
a giggle
a smile
let me out
let me laugh
let me smile
let me sit here a while
with a feeling of satisfaction
a smile on the face
a twinkle in the eye
a glad tiding of good bye
nonsense
nonsense
only nonsense
just a joke
a poke in the rib
a laugh and a sigh
a giggle and goodbye.

I am sitting here
   in a chair
waiting for winter

I am sitting in the chair
  that I sat in while
waiting for summer

The days are longer
the nights are shorter
than they were when I was waiting for summer

Like 'waiting for my ship to come in'
i am waiting
for the alignment of the stars
to make it my time

to get out of the chair
that I am sitting in

waiting for winter

LET US MAKE EVERY DAY

WORLD GIGGLE DAY

CHANGE

   We are all creatures of habit. We like the status quo. We want things to remain the same, if we are successful. If, we are having bad luck,we wish instantly for change, for things to no longer be as they are. If we are having a run of good luck then we are very happy and credit our success to our knowledge and wisdom. If though, things are not going our way, we blame the forces of nature and everything else except ourselves.

  As children, we wish for adulthood to approach rapidly, we want the power of independence to wave it's wand and grant us the wonders of doing it ourselves, making our own way and achieving overnight all the things it takes years to reach. Youth has its advantage, we see adults as static beings, never changing, always as they were, and will be. We do not realize that adults take years to reach maturity. Days to us are lifetimes, night is the longest days the shortest.

  Change happens with or without our permission. We grow taller, then we fill out, then we begin to see some wrinkles appear, the hair thins or turns grey. We long to keep our youth, we want our bodies to stay in peak performance. We enjoy the use of all our faculties at their very best, one hundred percent. It is wonderful, we are healthy, full of vitality and celebrate life. We run we play we live life to the fullest. All is well, we are happy. There is nothing we cannot do.
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  There is no limit to our happiness, the sky is blue, the sun shines, we work, we play, we enjoy learning, and growing, and working. We extend ourselves and meet new people. Our world includes strangers, it is no longer simply the family unit, we are branching out. We travel past the corner of our street. We venture into new neighborhoods, we learn about other cultures, we see new things. Our minds expand to include new countries, we travel beyond the boundries of our countries. We explore.

  And then suddenly, as if overnight, our brains are full, or our bodies overworked, and we can not take it all in. We can not add one more thing to our already full lives. We trip over the experience of discord. Everything is no longer going our way, we trip, we fall, we meet disagreement, and disharmony. And we can no longer cope. It is not all going our way. It is not smooth sailing, it is the perfect storm on the sea of change. We begin to cease to win. Our brains no longer grasp things as swiftly, we drop the ball, we hit the brick wall. And we can not cope. We can not function in disharmony. It begins to take it's toll, the price, the body begins to break down, the muscles sag, the eyes dim.

 We begin to be less happy, we are winning less, we are achieving less, it is taking us longer to do the job, it is less fun, it is more work, it becomes difficult.
And we grow more unhappy, we do not relish failure as we do success. Winning is everything.

  And as the time passes, the mind accumulates more and more memories, more data, more information, more memories, and the body becomes weary. And we remember the yesterdays of youth and we are dissatisfied with the present state of affairs, we want the yesterday to be the present. We want the power of the youthful stature to be with us a little longer, so we can play a little longer, we can succeed a little longer. But, alas, it is tomorrow, and we have to live with the memory of yesterday in the body of today knowing that tomorrow will be the less and less of the yesterday. The person whom we were will drift away and all we shall have is the dream of yesterday.
 

Dear Diary, 7.19.12

   Today is a glum kind of day. One that has little physical or mental activity. The heat is cooking everything inside and out. The little left that is green has turned under to reach the ground from whence it came. The little wildlife left is scrounging the dirt coming closer to the house. The bugs and mice are beginning to come inside in search of food. The cats stand a vigilant watch. The birds have moved north in search of seed. The hum of the a/c is now a drone the buzzes continually singing the song, "wait til the bill comes in baby", then the diet will be for the birds. Right now, the whirr of the forced air seems to be the gerbel running the wheel going no where. The thermostadt is low enough to produce a sweat if there is any exertion. The dust is being pulled through the walls placing a light silt on the furniture, changing the brown to white. I'll let is stay awhile, looks like new. The air is filled with the fine mist of earth that has nothing to cling to. Pictures of the dust bowl come to mind. The house was painted on the outside last year, hope it will stop a bit of the land from moving within.

   It is a listless yoke possessing the town, little but essential traffic, not even a visit to the old watering hole can get us out. The heat sways the air. Somewhere there is activity, somewhere it is cooler than here, somewhere, someone, some ones are busy with the activity of life. The nonsense of everyday chores, not here.

   Much to do, so much to do. Just sitting here thinking about the air. The inside of my nose is so dry it feels like it is outside. Yesterday a bug tried to get to the last of the moisture in my nostril. Then  the giant claw swatted the critter into oblivion.

  It is not Friday. If it were Friday it would seem like there was an end in sight. Three minutes of rain this morning is all we got to the storm prediction. Must carry on with life. They say that every person needs, or uses, thiry gallons of water a day, for grooming and consumption. 'Must think about a way to reduce that amount, must conserve, must watch the water, must be careful, must watch the levels.' Sponge bathe, sink soak the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher, no dishwasher prewashing, soak it. vacuum the dust instead of washing it. Another drone to listen to, the vacuum injesting the dust of outside, that has been sucked inside. The outside moving inside.

  We had brown outs the day before yesterday, five blinks in a row, then five more. If the power goes, the water goes, the well pump won't work and we will have to rely on the bottled water we have for emergencies. Water to keep the toiet clear, and water to drink.

  It has been months, the heat, oppressive, intensive, scalding, beating down, day after day, the brilliant sunshine bleaching the horizon, leeching the green to a pale yellow. The cows are in trouble, less for them to eat, winter wheat. The farmers horde saved for the snow, rolling out to lay before the beasts of beef, months before their time.

  Solar panels would suck in some of the sun, wish I had some. Now all there is to do, is to think safety, and carry on with the day. Do something useful. Do something to distract. Do something.

  I will wash my face, and save the water in a bucket to throw on the floor in the basement to help keep down the dust, until the rains come.