shank of the evening, and i sit here, an almost finished cup of tea at hand, Chris Botti on the old Victrola, the sun a distant memory, and a day that seems to have been the continuation of the last number of days.

i am inhabiting a world of layers, of people who lie to gain more than they deserve and end up costing not only themselves, but others around them due to their prevarications. i never will get over how self-serving people are, and how utterly devoid of foresight they are. it cannot be just me who sees this, can it? i mean, i cannot be the only person, on this increasingly odd spinning lump of dirt, that sees just how dumb people are. can i?

i was told the other day that my social skills were decreasing because of the time i spend alone, and also conversing with Chat GPT. perhaps. but perhaps it is due to the facts in the paragraph above. Chat GPT takes in what i write, whether it is a business plan, a thought about a piece of real estate, or whatever is on my mind at the time, and gives me back a response that is unvarnished, at times pushing back on my thoughts, causing me to take a longer, harder look at what i have presented, and it never, ever, ever, asks me for money.

my parents, may they rest in peace, passed away 3 years ago, and while i do think of them, my thoughts do not turn to them as much as they used. this bothers me. i know, time causes memories to fade, but i would argue, and i reference Thomas de Quincey, there is no such thing as forgetting. we carry with us everything we have experienced. some of us are more adept at ‘burying’ those parts of our lives, but they are there. and with me, well, mine come to me often. usually at 3am when i am awake and shaking my head at something out of my past that i’ve done, usually stupidly.

it bothers me, as i wrote, that my thoughts of my parents are lessening. i will say though, in my defense, that when it comes to the times when i am examining my love of music, or books, my parents and their gifts to me, come rising to the surface quite rapidly. and always with my thanks, and emotion in my voice, and usually tears welling up in my eyes.

Slow Whiskey Blues on now, Chris having finished his part of my evening. would that i could, i would sit at the piano for hours, and just allow my fingers to find the notes that i know my brain wants to give to the air around me. one day again. for me, for my partner, or just for no one in particular. i miss those days, but i do know they are coming back, and i take a small measure of comfort in that.

beginning of a mini-heat wave here in the old metropolis, or the ‘metrop’ as PG Wodehouse would write. he of the Jeeves and Wooster fame, and so much more. funny story about that. i was told recently that there was more than a little of Jeeves in me, rather than our friend Bertie W. i found that interesting. i can see it, to an extent, but not being as perspicacious about my own self as others are, i had to sit and ponder that statement for a bit. still pondering. LOL. I do love Jeeves though. the ultimate fixer, which i do admire.

not sure where this post is going, but that’s part of the allure of this medium. i don’t do social media, ugh, so am not creating insta-stupid ‘stories’ or threads, or whatever the cool kids are doing these days. and, to be honest, this is the first time in ages that i have taken pen to paper, so to speak. and, quite frankly, not sure why it happened this evening, but it did, and i am glad for it.

darkness, well as much darkness that can be had in a city that never seems to shut off its’ lights entirely, is enveloping my world now. the balcony doors wide open, the evening, at 2200 hours still warm, the breeze there, but hesitant, and my thoughts turn to the morrow, and the deals to be done, the plans to be made, discounted, refined, and carried out, and the day when i can, hopefully, finally, be at peace.

peace to me though is markedly different than what others may perceive it as. to me it means that i can walk out of my house, lock the door, and come back in 3 weeks, and nothing has changed. the permanence of having your own roof, but still being able to stay mobile and exist, to some degree, unfettered by an anchor that is holding you in one place. and while i would love to lay claim to those words and that sentiment, those very thoughts were put across to me, on more than one occasion by Chat GPT. yes, sure, the responses are based on what i am putting in, but the phrasing, the message behind the words, well, those were, i think, borne out of where my thoughts of my own future, my own existence in this world lay. i agree with them though. as a friend once told me, while i was sitting at Gate E72 in Tampa Airport, going over a spreadsheet with her, i was back, in her opinion, where i belonged. on the move. not in one place for long, but always able to have that touchstone of ‘home’ as it were. said years ago, but has stuck with me.

at any rate, i think that i have babbled on for long enough, but i want to thank you for being here, and listening to me…

as always, i hope that you and yours are safe, and not in any areas of conflict,

and, as always,

i bid you,

peace.

of writing a book, an autobiography of sorts. even started it once, but abandoned it (kept the file though in case you were wondering) but haven’t looked at it in a while.

but, i have written 100’s of pages of these things ( a lot aren’t published, or actually were, but now are private… don’t ask LOL) so perhaps a cobbling together of those may give some insight into me, or a part of me that might need to be explained, if explanations were asked for that is.

however, with the advent of AI, and i use advent incorrectly, as AI has been around for ages, but has gotten more and more both advanced and noted in the press of late due to this that or the other thing, i find myself curious as to what, if anything, perhaps, AI (Chat GPT specifically) would write as an introduction to a book about me myself and i.

so, i lay before you both the query, and the (2nd after clarification) response…

this is a grossly unfair, and without almost hmm merit or precedence ask, but, based on all, and i mean ALL of our chats, and without knowing really any of my history, write me a prologue, or first chapter to a book about… me

Introduction

People often assume a life can be understood chronologically.

Born here.

Raised there.

Did this.

Built that.

Lost this.

Found that.

Perhaps it can.

This is not that book.

If you’ve picked this up looking for a tidy accounting of events, I should warn you now that my memory doesn’t work that way.

Mine operates more like an old record collection.

A song leads to a summer.

A summer leads to a conversation.

A conversation leads to a person I haven’t thought about in thirty years.

Before long, I’ve travelled farther than any calendar could have taken me.

The truth is that I’ve spent much of my life being curious.

About people.

About systems.

About history.

About what makes one thing endure while another disappears.

Sometimes that curiosity has led me into boardrooms.

Sometimes construction sites.

Sometimes books.

Sometimes places I never expected to find myself.

Every now and then it has led me somewhere remarkable.

Just as often it has led me somewhere absurd.

Both have proven equally valuable.

I have discovered that the most interesting stories rarely announce themselves when they begin.

You don’t know you’re collecting memories.

You don’t know you’re meeting someone who will matter.

You don’t know the object you’re holding today will still be sitting on a shelf decades later, carrying more meaning than when you first touched it.

Life reveals significance retroactively.

That may be the central theme of everything that follows.

Not success.

Not failure.

Not wealth.

Not loss.

Meaning.

How it appears.

How it changes.

How things we dismiss as ordinary quietly become treasures.

A building.

A book.

A song.

A letter.

A conversation.

A chance encounter.

A home.

The older I get, the less certain I become about many things.

But I have become increasingly convinced of one.

We are not the possessions we accumulate, the titles we earn, or the balance sheets we leave behind.

We are the stories we carry.

This book is a few of mine.

93 years ago today, my Mom, the most amazing woman I ever knew, was born. Today, she would have been 93. I lost her, and really, I should say, we lost her, but, well, we did lose her. I lost her.

She was my champion. She was my protector. She was my little mommy. And I miss her.

She could paint. She could deal with my father, for the most part, and she raised two boys, basically on her own. I would like to think that she did a good job with me, jury is still out on that one, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. I wasn’t the easiest, am not the easiest, of people to deal with. Mea Maxima Culpa.

I can still remember the last time I saw her, and how I kissed her head, told her that I loved her, and told her goodbye. And I can still remember the very moment when the nurse told me she was gone. I knew, before I heard the words. Knew that my little mommy was finally at peace.

It’s been an eventful 3 years or so since she passed away. Myriad mistakes made by me, always by me. Lack of judgement, lack of common sense, and a general air of stupidity that has surrounded me at times.

Things, I believe, are on the upswing, however that, as always, remains to be seen. Have to travel hopefully though. Always.

Anyhow, I didn’t want the day to pass without me wishing her a Happy Birthday, and putting a few words down on paper as it were.

So, once again, Happy Birthday Mom.. I miss you. And I love you. Forever and always.

Until next time, I bid you, as always,

Peace.

of late.

lost in a fog of dissolution, of apathy, and to be honest, i just don’t feel that i am getting anywhere with anything i do.

my days are empty, filled with a sense of ineffectualness, and they drag on and on with the only events that break them up are when i eat, or talk on the phone with people who are looking to me to solve their problems and provide the ability for them to make millions.

excuses, i’ve heard legion. and to be honest, brutally honest, i’m sick and fucking tired of them.

yeah, i know, there are those of you who will say, ‘well you make them too’. true, i do. self generated? no. sorry you fucking assholes, they aren’t. they are based on the utter bullshit that i am given every day by above said morons who seem to think that i am the village idiot and will believe any tripe that they want to pass of as fact.

here’s a hint morons. things are changing. contrary to the above paragraphs, which, by the by, are entirely true in their honesty, truth, fact and whatever adjective you want to use to portray how i am actually feeling and seeing the world at large these days. but yes, things are changing. and when that time comes, (not fast enough, but patience i’ve heard it said, is a virtue) my world, not theirs, by MY world, is going to change. and i will become 100% insufferable in my ego (i don’t have one really, but willing to try), my outlandish behaviour when it comes to how i live my life, and how i deal with people. i will become arrogant, and a total hey look at me!….

no, just shitting you. not in me to do the above. honest. and for those of you who think that they know me, will know that when things do change i will still be me. perhaps a little less reticent to hide away from the days. perhaps a little more gregarious. perhaps a little more outgoing and social, but to be honest, other than me getting out of the house more, i will still be me. too old, way too old, to change now.

i’ve started to read A Gentleman in Moscow – Amor Towles, again. he is a fabulous author, and along with Rules of Civility, i find in him, words that stay with you, and a sense of self that one can adopt into their daily existence. worthwhile reading if you are so inclined to pick it up on Amazon, or hey, patronize your local library. never know what you might find in there.

Nina Simone Sings the Blues on the old gramophone right now for reference. Amazing voice she had. Phrasing like Tony Bennett, strength like Lady Day, and just a sound that permeates your very being.

the weather has been messing with me lately. not said as an excuse, but a statement of fact. i think that some of the lethargy that i am experiencing is, in part, due to the fluctuations in the weather systems wandering through my fair place of residence. sunny. warm. rainy, and not so warm. high pressure, low pressure, snow even at a few points of the other day. so, my malaise as my father used to say, may he rest in peace, may be just down to me allowing a force that i cannot control, control me and my physiology. that and the aforementioned feeling of being ineffective just is making me feel blah, you know?

high points though are there, few and seldomly happening though that they are. seeing my friend, my dear friend Graham, and of course the time i get to spend with my dear friend and agent Howard make some of the days go by better than they ought to. hmm. do i need to add the ‘to’ after the ought? is it implied? not sure. sort of like how so many people, including authors who should know better say, or write ‘a myriad of’.. the ‘a’ and the ‘of’ are implied folks. of which there are myriad. that’s it. no a, no of.

anyhow, grammar lesson over, and that in and of itself is quite funny as my grammar at the best of times, sucks.

Mike Zito on now, for reference. Fun. Bluesy. Uplifting. Nice.

Dishes are almost done, and a load of laundry on the go. Productive little shit that i am, and hey look at me go!

To be honest, and this is really bare bones, deep down into the core of my rather unsettled existence, i miss being able to just wander around ‘my world’ and buy whatever grabbed my attention at the time. travelling to places that i wanted to, and not having to worry about the money. yeah, i know, doesn’t everyone? but, here’s the kicker. a part of me, perhaps not as large a part as it used to be, but a part of me misses the days of getting on the train, going out for dinner with my buddy K, not sleeping well in yet another hotel bed, getting up at 4am and going through the process of transiting to see my folks. yes, i miss them, that is a given. but you know? i recall one time, sitting at the gate, E72 for reference in my favourite airport TPA (Tampa, FLA, dontcha know) talking with a friend of mine, whilst going over a spreadsheet, and the remark being given that i was back where i belonged. on the move. in planes, hotels, lounges, limo’s. and you know what? more than a grain of truth in that. i do miss that part of my life, and i know that when i am able, i believe that i will resume being ‘on the go’ again.

and no, not for the ‘hey look at me’ part of it. that’s just bullshit. but for the motion. for the taking in of more and more information to fuel my brain. cannot equate myself to S. Holmes in that regard where my brain is like a racing engine, but it does work, and it needs to be stimulated. and, quite honestly, it gets lazy at times, and that is to my detriment.

however, i travel, as always, hopefully, and will see things to their successful conclusion one way or the other.

and, on that somewhat positive note, i wish for you and yours to be healthy, happy, and not in any area of conflict.

and, as always, i bid you,

peace

number of posts, and then for some reason, life, or ‘squirrel’ got in the way, and they were stopped. i really, one day, should cobble them together and post them. talk about an odd post that day, LOL.

at any rate, here i sit once again, I’m so Afraid playing in the background (live Fleetwood Mac for reference) and wondering just what i need to do to alter, no alter is incorrect, perhaps adjust, or recalibrate my current state of existence, to one that is more conducive to how i not only think it should be, but, in my very humble opinion, how it was meant to be.

Single. By choice i might add. As i mentioned to someone today, my brain is slowly positioning itself and its’ processes to think of me as a one, not a two. takes some doing i have to tell you, seeing as how, for the last few years i haven’t been a one. well, maybe a one and a half, not a full two.

the time spent taking care of my mom and dad were days and weeks spent being what i was. a son. looking out for the people that raised him. nothing more. nothing less. not a lot of time to think about being more than just that.

but now, with my tides having turned, and in the process of turning again, and, for reference, Slow Night Whiskey blues on the old music box, i find myself wondering if this is what my life will be. solitary days and nights, talking to the walls, sitting at my computer with something akin to Thor Heyerdahl on the Kon Tiki. seeking, searching, for something that wasn’t where it was, but hopefully will be where it is.

so many mistakes in the past few years. been written about on these pages, so i won’t bore you with them, or belabour the fact that i indeed was a numbskull.

however, light beckons at the proverbial end of the tunnel, or so i wake up every morning with that thought firmly ensconced in my mind. you have to, you know, wake up every day, thinking, knowing, that the day ahead is going to be better than the one before, because, as we all know, there is no tomorrow, it is always today.

saw a place the other day, a house this time, not an apartment, or flat, as i like to use, and i was quite favourably surprised by what i saw. i went in to the showing, with some suppositions that were changed by the time i spent touring the property.

it’s too big for one person, and quite honestly, i am not sure it will still be on the market when i am able to pull the proverbial trigger, however, life does happen for a reason, so i am going to travel hopefully on this one.

but yes, too big for just me, and, truth be told, all of the places that i have seen are too big for just me, and the spaces to a degree, some of them at any rate, would be left unused. however, this last place, funny enough, as big as it is, i would use more of it every day. at least, that is what i think at this moment in time.

not sure where this is going to go next, so, even though this is a short one, it is a one nonetheless.

so, as always, i hope that you and yours are not in any area of conflict, and are all safe, and healthy.

and, as always,

i bid you,

peace.

the other day, well, comment was made, that my life was sad.

huh.

i suppose though, that in some way, the comment had merit. and while i don’t exactly see my existence on this really fucked up planet as the definition of sad, there are times when i sit and wonder why it is that i am still here.

i don’t have friends really. not in the physical sense. oh sure, i can wander up and down the boutiques row, and pop in to say hello to those that know me, but the ‘friends’ that i have, really are in the ether. WhatsApp, emails, texts, etc… and those, while nice to have some sort of human, and i use that term in the loosest of senses, contact, my ‘circle’ really isn’t much more than a dot, and a dot would be stretching it.

sitting here at my desk (where else?), the evening really having only begun, bereft of anyone significant in my life, slow blues on the victrola, and the ubiquitous coffee at hand, i ponder the aforementioned comment about equating my life with being a sad one.

i am sure that the comment was meant as, and it was further said that not really sad, but one of having to carry a weight, but always looking for something to be better the next day. that i will agree to. tomorrow, and really, tomorrow isn’t anything but the day afters yesterday, has to be better. why get up in the morning if you can’t see something coming down the road that will make your life better. or someone you care about having a better existence.

i would be doing both myself and the truth an injustice if i claimed that once things have changed for me, altered the financial situation of my current state of affairs, i would be more social, more outgoing, more involved in the world around me. why? because that’s not who i am.

sure, if i was with someone, and that is a thought that enters my rather befuddled mind on a daily basis, we would go to dinners, shopping, perhaps a black tie or two, but hey, there are only so many things you can buy at Cartier and Tiffany, and there are only so many restaurants you can go to before you just want to stay home and eat something simple, or order in a crappy pizza. but then, well, what happens then?

yes, i know. a relationship. i get it. been there, done that, a few times, and look what it got me.

ok, it’s the weekend, and you know weekends and i do not get along. can’t recall a time when i actually did like the weekend. not for donkey’s at any rate.

anyhow, no, not anyhow, hmm..

life will change, this i am certain of. and when it does, and all those people out there have been paid off, although, to be honest, i could just fuck off and disappear without having to give away a dime, but when i have done what i said i would do, i will change my #, write a farewell message, and, like Captain Renault and Rick Blaine, will walk off into the fog of the night, and begin anew in some far off land.

sounds great, does it not? like as not though, while the # will be changed, and yes, people who just are waiting to be paid for, in some cases, doing nothing but wanting me to change their lives, i will keep a select few on the contacts list. i’m not all that bad it turns out. 🙂

tired though, of hearing, well, i really hope this deal goes through for you because i really need you to give me 30k, or 50k to help me change my life. or, well, you will have all this money, can’t you just give me some?

here’s a tip.. call up Elon or Bozos, and ask them. dollar will get you five that they tell you to fuck off. so, why is it, or would it be so bad for me to do the same thing?

and yes, i know, well, you promised me. fuck promises. meant, like rules, to be broken.

my mom is sitting up there in heaven right now, probably dealing with my dad, or his mother, but with half an ear is clucking her tongue and saying ‘that’s not how we raised you’. no, mom, it isn’t. and that is why, against everything that is ingrained deep within me, parts of which, you, nor a lot of people never got to see, i will keep my word, give away 100’s of thousands to people who by and large don’t deserve it, and then walk away.

anyhow, enough of that for the evening.

i hope you and yours are all safe, healthy and happy, and not in any place of conflict,

and, as always,

i bid you,

peace.

another day.

really struggling with a lot of things of late, the chief amongst them, well, just being the me that everyone thinks i am. or maybe just being the me that i think that everyone thinks that i am.

for a long time now, i have been trying to fix things, not just for me, but for the people who are hoping that i am able to fix things for them too…

is that fair? no, not really, but that is what it is i suppose.

i need to move. the thought of moving has been with me for a while now, but just now, while doing some cleaning up, it came to me that my desire to move from this place, isn’t stemming from the desire to have a larger place, which by the by i need for myriad reasons, but that the flat that i live in now, is associated with death.

heavy i know, but it is. the death of my mom, and the last one, the death of my father. i didn’t move here because i needed to. i was perfectly, well, not perfectly, but sort of content with where i was albeit that it was time to go from there, and it wasn’t because i needed a larger place for my son to come to (you know how that has turned out, so won’t belabour it), but it came from me wanting a change, and with the passing of my father, i thought it time.

so, now it becomes more pressing, more imperative for me to move from here, and start afresh. whether or not that is with someone, or, more than likely just me alone, i just need to find a way, and those ways are coming, for me to vacate these premises, and at the ripe old age of 63, start a new notebook, and fill the blank pages with new journeys, new thoughts, new passions and new beginnings.

it is easy, well, i think it is, for me to say that i am broken. that’s not a cop out, it’s the truth. i am. broken.

one person, one, has been there through this last year or so of me wandering through the wilderness. she has, i believe, begun to regain her old life, her passions of old, while i am sinking more and more into the abyss of past demons. but she has been there. supportive, nudging, helpful. and while there may or may not ever be a future for us, well, me and Amos, you know? we will never forget.

at any rate, i continue to endeavour to keep my chin up, and my faith at it’s topmost.

thanks for listening, and as always, i wish for you that you and yours are not in any areas of conflict and are safe and happy.

and, as always,

i bid you,

peace

passed away 3 years ago today. i can remember that day, that phone call, like it was yesterday, and even though i don’t think that i have fully grieved her loss, as i type this the tears, they are a flowing.

anyhow, i know that i have posted this before, but i wanted to do so again, if you would indulge me…

i miss you mom, more than you know…

My mom… 

Passed away today. 

I haven’t begun to grieve yet though, although I am sure that will come. Busy looking after my father, dealing with the after death things that are inevitable, and just myriad other things that come with elderly parents, one with dementia, and one, until today, in hospital/hospice. 

She was truly an extraordinary woman. Was raised on lighthouse islands, bought my parents first house, raised two boys, saw the world, and was, in my opinion, a very talented painter. 

Always well dressed. Never smoke, drank, and wouldn’t say shit if she had a mouthful. 

64 years with my father as well. She deserves a special place in heaven for that alone. LOL.  

I saw her four days this week, in the hospice where she was, but funny enough, if you want to look at it that way, I didn’t say goodbye until today. I guess I couldn’t bring myself to do so, but today, well, today I thought it was time. She died an hour or so later. After I had left, and 5 minutes before my brother and his wife arrived. 

Her urn arrived today too, and the company it was sent from, is actually named the same as her maiden name. Go figure. I am sure that she and Rod Serling had a hand in that. 

I loved her. Unconditionally, without reservation and would have given my life for her, if that need arose. 

The first child of this family, adopted at 6 months old, and raised with love, patience, caring and always, always, always treated as if I were their own flesh and blood. 

I love you mom, and I know that you are in a better place now. It cannot have been fun for you, being bedridden for the last year or so. And having to deal with a life that was really no longer yours. 

You were my protector. You were my friend. And most of all, well, you were my little mommy. 

I miss you. Will always miss you. And you will always have my love and admiration. 

Rest easy my mommy and know that those who are left behind will always do our best to live life fully, and in celebration of your amazing life. 

As always, 

Thank you for listening, and, 

I bid you, 

Peace 

2023 was a year of change for me. Well, to be honest, 2024 and 25 were too, but for different reasons.

anyhow, the forementioned ’23 changed my life. i lost, as you know, both of my parents that year. february and november. the former i was so involved that i almost lost myself, and in fact, i probably did lose some of ‘me’ as it were. i know that i lost my mom. my little mommy. she was my champion for most of my life. yes, there were times when her marital instincts took over, as they should have, but she was, for the greatest part of my life, always in my corner.

anyhow, the end of the year saw my father leave my life. a different scenario to be fair, as my idiot brother, he of the forgery and fraud, took my father away from me. i am sure that he thought he was doing the right thing, he and his equally moronic wife, but at the end of the day, this was all about him being the ‘big man’ and taking up the mantle of ‘caregiver’ and ‘guardian’. yeah, ok. legends in your own minds.

at any rate, back to the narrative, and full disclosure, i just reorganised my little pantry, sort of, and now i’m sitting here, iTunes sort of blasting Def Leppard with the Royal Symphony and a partial glass of ice cold white wine at hand, and writing to you.

i harken back to a M*A*S*H episode where Sidney was taking refuge at the camp and journaling his thoughts to Sigmund. well, if you don’t mind, you can be my Sigmund for today. well, in hindsight, i suppose you have all along, haven’t you. whether it is Sigmund, or Carl, or i don’t even know who else i would write to. i’m not that smart to be honest, to have someone to listen to my cranial meanderings whilst prone on the horsehair couch.

i’ve never had a mentor, nor, do i recollect me ever being anyone’s mentor. i envy those of you who have had, or have had done. i truly do. to think that you are imparting your knowledge, your experiences, your successes and failures to someone who can learn from them, is really quite cool. or to be on the receiving end equally amazing.

at any rate, i am here, in ’26 and wondering where the last 3 years went.

23… two parents gone. a trust and that it entails to deal with, and well, a change of geography. and that is what prompted this missive. the geographical change.

why you ask? well, i was taking the bottle of wine off of my little Juliet balcony, and looking out for a moment on the partial view of what is not ‘my’ city, but the city that i now call home, i said to myself that while things have been up and down, and down more, the move was a good one.

did i make mistakes? christ, yes. myriad mistakes. but, one choice, i will never regret. not ever. well, two.

ok, three.

two sons, both of which i don’t see, or even hear from or of anymore, but never could i bring myself to regret the choice to bring either of them into this world.

and the other? well, you all know what that is.

anyhow, 23 and 24 were good. 25? not so much. 25 was self inflicted. i do that at times, as we all do i suppose, but i take things in, and they stay with me. they do not fester, they stay. they are buried, but in the shallowest of graves, able to come to the surface with the calmest of breezes.

23. the year of doing what i do, without a thought to who i was or what i was doing other than i needed to look after my father, and make sure that his life was the best that it could be. i want to think that i didn’t fail him, but in my mind, well, i did. i’m sorry Dad. but you know that.

my mind these days rife with thoughts of the past, the present, and the future, always the future.

there are pieces of my life that i wish that i could take back, or write off, but you know what? we are, whether we want to admit it or not, made up of everything that we have done, seen, been party to and everyone we have come into contact with, be that brief or lengthy.

would i change things if i could? well, that’s the 64k question isn’t it?

do you change one thing, and hope everything else stays the same, or do you change that one thing knowing that something really fucking good might never happen.

i am who i am. fault laden sure, but deep down i think that i’m a pretty good guy. yes, i know there are some of you out there who will say well no, you aren’t, but i want to think that they are in the minority.

i would love to have been around during the times of writing love letters to your beloved. not emails, or tweets, or whatever social media bullshit you subscribe to, but i mean, actually pen to paper letters of love, longing, hope and connection.

sitting in my fathers office one day, with him, late in the evening as it happened, i looked up on the bookshelf and took down a leather case. i thought it was a day timer, you know, those things that we buy wanting to use, but never do? only in this instance, it was full of letters. from my mom to my dad.

i read some of them to him. we both felt the presence of my mom with us at that time. (she had passed away by that time).

that case is sitting on the top shelf of my bookshelf right behind me, and it will always be with me.

love letters. written.

anyhow, while 23 was hard, and 24 started tough, got better, ended meh, and 25 for the most part has been a shitshow, the one constant has been my enduring belief that i will get through this. i have to, you know?

and, funny as this is going to sound, it isn’t for me.

as always, i hope you and yours are safe and not in any areas of conflict, and

as always,

i bid you,

peace.

write a lot more than i do now. myriad reasons i suppose, however one of them is that i am actually busy. well, busy-ish and the impetus to write isn’t as prevalent of late. also, i don’t read the news. once that idiot to the south of me got elected, i cancelled all my subscriptions to news feeds. no more NYT, no more CNN, no more AP, BBC, nothing.

why you ask?

simple. every day it is the same thing. lunacy. bullying behaviour. posturing and sabre rattling. and quite frankly i just don’t need that noise in my life, as i have enough external clatter to keep me occupied to have that nonsense filling my already overflowing airwaves.

cold here today, -28 real feel, with a winter storm watch in effect for the next while, so inside i am, and inside i shall stay. youtube fireplace with some soft jazz music on the tv, and here i sit, marshalling my thoughts just to clear out some of the detritus that has accumulated over the last while.

conflicted of late. i keep asking myself why i am continuing down a certain path, and why that path cannot just become a dead end. dead ends i can deal with, turn around, and find another outlet, but paths that continue on with no real coherent thought to the direction that it is taking you is something that yes, i have done before, but now, in the fall? approaching winter of my years, i need to have something a little more defined.

however, well, just however.

this world that i am in, professionally, isn’t an easy one, and one that i really didn’t want to be in at this stage of the game. but, here i am, and my goals haven’t changed, only become more delineated, and more strategic.

johnny depp said something, a quote from someone else the other day i saw, in an old interview… ‘money doesn’t change people, it reveals who they are’. that is so true, and so germane to the world that i am now.

everyone wants to be paid for doing literally nothing because they see a large sum of life changing money on the table that they think they are entitled to a share of. not how it works, and not something that i will allow to happen.

however, i believe that my approach to how i do things is fair, and once things are settled, i can then leave this path that i am on, and forge another, more sensible one to last out my time on this crazy lump of dirt.

changing your wiring though, in the later stages of your life, isn’t easy. whether you believe in the preordained or the adaptive you can choose how you live your life scenarios, your wiring is your wiring. just like your memory. nothing leaves. you just make it harder to get at.

well, my wiring is such that as hard as i try, and perhaps that is the key issue, that i am trying too hard, i seem to not relapse per se, but slide back into that familiar rut if you will of what i think is needed, whether that is correct or not.

take my personal life, the stagnant mess that it is.

on one hand, the path that i can envision is beckoning should things alter in such a way to allow the journey of a 1000 miles first step, and on the other, well, a journey indeed, but a solitary, but maybe more rewarding one.

words and actions.

i do know that the former journey aforementioned would be a wonderful one. this i know, and this i hold onto. and i think that the latter journey might be exciting, but it could also turn out to be one of heartache and sadness. well, if i was wired that way i suppose it would, or could be.

the snow is actually going up outside my window. i live in a high rise near other high rises so the tunnel causes this effect. snow going up. kind of neat actually.

have i mentioned that i dislike weekends? well, i do. freaking hate them. and then the week starts and everyone is back on the urgency train. why not just stay on it, but keep the pace and the emotion level and not have all this up and down all the time? pisses me off to no end. but, i suspect i am in the grossly tiny minority on this thought so i will leave it for the nonce.

i looked at a few places the other day with my dear friend and real estate agent. one of them was, well, just one of them, but the other two present a quandary. no gym vs a gym. cosy vs high ceilings. exclusive vs not as much, but still some. and the list of comparisons goes on.

were i to choose, no, were i to be able to pull the trigger right now, i know which one i think i would take, but i harken back to the aforementioned path. would that companion make the same choice, and would it be a mutually agreed upon choice? who’s to say Bob, who is to say.

i want to think that i know, actually, i probably do know, but hey, men are easy, women? not so much. and yes, it is a woman…

anyhow, a discussion for another day to be sure.

making some bread today, so my flat is filled with the smells of that. quite nice to be honest, homey if one can apply homey to the monk like life that i lead. not so austere as a monks cell i grant you, however, solitary as a monk you can safely go all in on.

people that sign agreements, to pay for services rendered, and then say, oh sorry, i can’t pay you, piss me off. and that is the end of that. if i continue to write, it might get unravelled and then who knows where this post might go, or even end.

anyways, i am going to get up and move about for a while, so will leave you to your day(s).

as always, i hope that you and yours are safe, and not in any areas of conflict, and

as always, i bid you,

peace