Non-guilty consciousness

I never voted for Ronald Regan.

 

But he was by far the most enduring and evident presence, public and political, during the as thus far very best years of my life. In the shadow of his conservatism, I lived and grew up and got busted like never before and feared war and went to high school and college. I learned about the political process not from professors, but from the gallantly talented actor on TV. To this day I am complicity learned - if not always effective - in the vital importance of effective communication. This is nostalgia in action. This is the reintroduction of a past we will again willingly endure this week. This month. This year.

 

 Me? For the sake of the 80's, I will again listen to The Cure. And The Smiths who hated Thatcher, and The Minutemen who redundantly hated you if you had matching shoes on at the same time, and X, who were in L.A. when we were in Asbury Park. And Nebraska, the series of songs that tells it all.

 

I worked in a nursing home throughout my college years. I was a maintenance man. I tarred roofs, changed light bulbs, planted flowers, delivered laundry, conveyed  mass meals on a station wagon tail gait over speed bumps, dumped garbage, jump started dead batteries, shoveled snow, landscaped, wheeled paraplegics, drank beer, weeded gardens, made friends, sweated, froze, broke my nose, and walked into inexplicably invisible spider webs in wide open land. I did homework, got A’s and B’s and D’s, drove a truck and wore flannel like Cobain before Cobain was Cobain. I painted buildings pale with southern exposure a fresher shade of white. I ran generators and destroyed wasp nests. I mowed 45 degree inclines of weed and gravel. Got bit by a poisonous spider.

 

I saw the ravage of age. I saw the indescribable sadness of Alzheimer’s first hand. The blank stare, the loss of capacity for deliberate movement, the drooling, the incontinence.

 

My plea to God tonight is that all who die from that desolate of a disease have their happiest memories returned 10-fold upon the blink of entrance to the gates of whatever comes next. I never voted for Ronald Regan. I do vote for him in this way, and for all who fade with him, today and everyday.

 

Crock of wit

#3 of the series

 

I used to have a giant plastic alligator, smaller than real but still the size of 2 sneakers end-to-end. Natalie made me throw it away when there was still more junk than hope. Ha ha. This little menace does it no justice.

 

But imagine the lightening strike fear after getting an innocent cup of coffee, then seeing a pit bull prehistoric predator. (but not set on a giant contrast-enhancing napkin on a cobblestone coffee table.)

 

Still scared? Me neither. But the alligator is.

 

You wonder where Animal Control is. He wonders if he’s going to be boots, a belt, or, unlikely, find a way back to his beloved swampland.

Man of a shell

This shell is on my front doorstep, right underneath my mailbox. I marvel at it daily. Nature weathers much better than the lame pain of man to throw on a fresh coat of paint. But both efforts have their own beauty in age, if not grace.

Caramelancholy

#2 of the Series

Danger, Danger!

My WD-40 latte is swollen with c a r a m   e    l. Can't hail cab.....Sticky inside. Ummmmmmm. Caramel.

Brake

My goal is to pause, , ,  and,

Then to reenter life with the soul-bolstering choreography of purpose. In my profession, this consists of soul-blistering thought, soul-bleaching wonder and soul-blackening regret.

 

Desk

A disorganized desk is a sign of what?

Even superheros go to Starbucks

I'm working on a series of dioramas featuring famous bizzaro people in front of a Starbuck's tin my sister once sent me cookies in when I was sick and too tired to write run on sentences such as the one you are about to finish reading.

Novice that I am, I am still trying to make the pics larger and more enthralling to all. This is a work in progress.

Be that as it may, this is #1 in a series. Batman and Robin show customers the way out of Starbucks. Doesn't my coffee table make for a cool cobblestone street?