Baseball as Never Before

My nine year old grandson had his last little league game today.  Now All Star and Play offs.  They are 16 wins two losses for the season.  Since it was the last game, they wanted to let everyone pitch.  He never pitched in a game before.  He can fire the ball but tends to hold back a little.  He struck out the first two batters, three pitches each.  I over heard one of the coaches say, "Why did we use him as a relief pitcher?"  (They used him as designated runner a couple of times cuz he is FAST)  So then he walks a run home but then strikes out the third guy to retire the side and they win another.  I had tears in my eyes.  I am such a wuss about such stuff. And sweet little Delaney asleep in my arms the whole time.  How many times can I say, "Life is sweet"?  I think this is a first for me.

                                    BEN

FLUFF

For anyone wandering in here that doesn't know ME, that might have linked through that Real Estate Agent in New Zealand or that Bicylce Shop in Holland, or that strange Russian website that loves me--I write FLUFF.

I am tired of the strict definition of "Romance" that it must have "conflict" and the "Happy Ending" which is so standardized it is called the HEA.  Happy Ever After. 

I write FLUFF.  They fall in love, fall in  bed, fight about stupid things, have babies, have tragedies, have fun, get scared, care about stuff.  There is no category.  I have even, thinking perhaps facetiously, or "kidding on the square", sent out queries where I say this is FLUFF with no moral lessons, hidden truths, just entertainment.  You'll laugh.  You'll cry.  You'll pee a little.  WTF.  I NEED escapism, but I cannot get my mind around stuff that has no bearing at all on my life.  I have to be able to identify with these people otherwise I do not give a flying fuck about them.  I remember all the cute, funny, flattering, scary, sad, emotional, angry parts of my life.  I don't necessarily want flashbacks, but maybe a little revisionist history, just for fun.  I swear, I read about a person whose friend has a book on the store shelf and asks her what she thinks of it and she says now they don't speak cuz it was a bunch of disconnected scenarios and she couldn't think of anything good to say about it.  Well, don't get your expectations up here.  If you ever talked to me or listened to me, or heard about me, you know exactly what to expect, and if you never heard of me, you will know me as well as you know your sister or your wife or your husband or yourself when you read me.

Coming soon to a Kindle  near you.  Lots and lots of bang for your buck.

Brag, Brag, Brag

It's usually whine, whine, whine, but maybe it's the weather.  This morning I went out in front of my house and cut branches off a tree.  I enjoyed it a lot.  I will probably feel the results of it tomorrow, but I enjoyed it.  I used to get mad at Louie.  We'd be having people over for whatever and I'd be dusting bookcases and he'd go to the empty field next door and cut down branches, pruning artistically, trees that belonged to no one and were growing wild.  But now I understand.  It is messing around with a kind of huge natural force and it feels so good.  I had one limb that was about four inches thick and half way through it broke and I couldn't get a purchase on the little piece still holding it on the tree.  Elemental problem solved.  Feels so much better than worrying if this chapter break should be a three asterisk break or a four asterisk break. Then, apparently while I was out for lunch, which took six hours and was also fun, Louie did some more.  Well, he always did like it.  And maybe after the spinal surgery he won't be able to do it anymore.  So the stacks of branches in front of and behind the garage kinda look actually bigger than the tree.  This tree, I think it is some kind of ash, and it is not very attractive, but keeps the evening sun from raising the temp in the front bedrooms, so there is no question it must remain, is just kind of annoying, it's growth pattern and ugly bark and all, and while wrestling with it I had the passing thought:  Ash. Emerald Ash Borer.  Maybe the village would pay for its removal, but no.  I took it back, God.  Forget I said that.  It is very necessary to the cultural ambience of my actual residence.  Which brings me back to what started this train of thought that is now looping through abandoned mine tunnels in an unused portion of my brain.  It had to be trimmed because it was growing way over the driveway and Cassie and I park our cars at that end of the driveway and on that side, and there is always an embarrassing amount of bird shit on them.   Plus, when I come around the corner, and I've lived here almost twelve years, I always think, "My house looks so nice."  And lately when I come around the corner I think, "You can hardly see the house anymore for that damned tree."
So, practical and aesthetic reasons, and it was fun and when you come around the corner you will think, "That house looks really nice."  It does.

Quote of the Day, of a Lifetime Maybe. . .

If not now, then when?

If not me, then who?



From some dude on Ted.  Thank you.

Here Comes My Nineteenth Nervous Breakdown

I got the courage to call and make a dr. appt. today.  When I was through my hands were shaking.  I had the same problem calling the dentist last week.  It is totally the phone.  I am not at all nervous when I go to the dr. or dentist.  Anyway, I guess I have to tell her the .25 Xanax isn't cutting it anymore.  I am sure I could go back to "handling" things drug-free if ithe shit wasn't piling up so fast.

I received notice Monday that my driver's license that I just renewed in April is being revoked so I won't be able to drive my wonderful Rendezvous that I love beyond reason, that we put $450 in last month and another $500 the other day so I could pass emission control so I could renew my plates for $112, and today we noticed the water on the rug in the car wasn't because I left the sunroof open, but, in fact, is pouring in from God knows where everytime we start the engine.  My driver's license is being revoked because I sold a car to my daughter's "boyfriend" and didn't take the plates off and he ran up dozens of tickets before I retrieved the plates.  Allstate called and said he was also in an accident, but Allstate took my word about the sale when I sent them a copy of the sales contract.  City of Chicago has received that from me at least four times, but they say I am still on the hook since Jody never retitled the car.  Can this be true?  It seems it is.  Chicago petitioned Illinois to revoke.  And they are.  So I am SOL.

Louie goes in next week for a myelogram (sp?) to determine the exact nature of his spinal damage to prep for surgery and, damn it, they better do a good job of fixing it cuz I have a  bathroom that needs to be  tiled.  We are waiting final word on the mortgage work out and trying to figure out why our electric bill is $350 a MONTH.  Dannie has to move back in,  If my dad tells the story about the lady at the DMV that demanded his DD214 for ID once more, I WILL jump off the porch, which I know will only maim me.  And my dog just pooped under the dining room table without so much as a 'by-your-leave'.

WTF

Blather

I am trying to figure out something that is really bothering me.  I read too many blogs on too many websites.  It uses up way too much of my time.  But I need to fill up the time since it seems my great professional writing career will never get off the ground, and was, apparently, just a reaction to the wrong medication.  This is disappointing to me, needless to say.  And I am not quite throwing in the towel yet.  But I haven't had the courage to look at my manuscripts in quite a while.  And the urge to start another is nonexistent.  The whole time I was writing so prolifically, I was wondering where it all was coming from.  I kept getting these ideas and running with them and asking myself where I got the ideas.  I will probably find out in a few years  that I actually wrote down word for word some story I read thirty years ago that was fermenting in the depths of my brain.

Anyway, the latest thing is that I have no patience with people that I personally feel take themselves too seriously.  Why is that?  Don't I take myself seriously?  You know what?  I don't think I do.  I think I am afraid to.  I think I am way too ready to back down.  Not that I will surrender my principles or beliefs.  I mean, I honestly do not care what you think about that. I go with what I am comfortable with.  But some people tackle a philosophy and they dissect it ad nauseum, and end up with all these semantic distinctions and I counter with an absolutely true, practical, real-life example of what they are talking about and they cannot respond in a realistic way.  They dissect my language or point out a typo.  And I feel like I climbed up the pole and waved  the flag and they all walked away.  And a couple of them stopped and peed on the pole just to accentuate their disdain. I feel like they threw in the towel.  (Maybe so I could wipe up the pee) And I guess I want them to say, "Yeah, Virginia.  You are right.  I was just being an asshole.  I just like to spell long words correctly."  But, seriously, even I don't believe that.  I mean, maybe they have a point.  I am just prepared to shoot them down and show them the errors of their ways, and I back it up with the truth.  I always make sure the gun is loaded and cocked and I have an extra clip handy.  Otherwise, I would not bothering aiming, much less entering into the fray. I do not even start on my theories about how I think God feels about it.  Like recycling, and light bulbs.  What would Jesus do?  I can't even get there.  No one will even say, "No shit.  That really happened?  You must be making it up."  They just blather about lumens should be Lumen and watts should be Watt, like each and every light bulb is actually a tiny biography.  C'mon.  This is reality we are dealing with.  I can't fucking stand it.  We are going down the tubes here and all I've learned is that von Mises took on the economy and bureaucracy but would not address social issues.  How can those things NOT all lean on each other?  If you buy the cheap medicine you don't get well as quickly.  Usually.  A + B = C.  Not A is one side of the coin and Q is the other side of the coin and that constitutes the Tao of knitting, or web surfing or porn addiction.  It's blather.  Stupidity is one side of  the stupidity coin and stupidity is the other side of the stupidity coin and that is the freaking Tao of freaking stupidity. 

And it seems I've been inspired to clean up my language just a little bit.  Fuck that.

And?

Here is a rejection letter, from an agent that handles women's fiction, that I did not retype.  I deliberately did cut and paste to preserve the quality as  best I could. The quotation marks are my own.


"After having a chance to read this, however, I am afraid I am going to pass on this project. While there were certainly elements of the story that were interesting, and, I just didn't feel the story was right for what I am looking for. The end result is that it just didn't appeal to me as much as I had hoped."



I am, of course, bitter and dissappointed.  Harlequin erotic novels are a biggie for the particular agency that sent this to me, and my sweet little stories don't cut it.  My point is, though, that EVERYWHERE you read about how perfect and concise your query letter MUST be or it won't get a second glance.  And truly, I SO much want to know what the and. . . was going to be.  It sounded like he was on the verge of saying one more positive thing before he shot me down.  But all I get was "and". . .  So, let's let the judges pass judgement on themselves here.  I almost want to include this dude's name in my tags, but ain't gonna happen.

Me Me Me Me Me

I'm so special.   I mowed the whole freaking lawn myself.  I planted all the flowers.  I took out the garbage.  I did all the dishes.  I cleaned the counters four hundred and eighty three times.  I got the license.  I paid the bills.  The car was  fixed with my money.  I cooked those amazing brownies.  Gee, my hair smells terrific.  Righteous rack.  See, I told you she dyed her hair.  I can't see that far.  What did you say?  I know.  Isn't she darling?  Just like her mom.  Really smart, too.  Not that that matters in the long run, but you know. . .
No, I don't know.  I never had a zit.  I never used that stuff for diaper rash.. You keep thinking you can get away with it.  The floors need to be stripped.  My Alfredo is better.  When a grown man says, "I wish I could. . ."  Some stuff you never forget.  Some stuff is important.  "Isn't that skirt a little tight?"  "You are the smartest person I know."   "I wish I could. . ."

The Totally Mental Aspects of Mental Disorders

I had a pretty nice day yesterday.  Spent some time with Francesca and Delaney.  Brought the Taylor family a great dinner and they even shared a little with me.  Bought three boxes of Good and Plenty.  The price has dropped from a dollar to ninety-eight cents, so I snapped those mothers up.  Ben had an amazing ballgame, hit two doubles, his team winning by two after  falling behind twice.  Then, as I prepared to retire for the night, putting all the daily papers into the recycling, (those suckers pile up so fast) deciding on my sleepy time cocktail of pills for the night, I notice a little white circle glowing against the golden fibers of my deceptively clean-looking dining room area rug.  Picked it up to discover it was a Welbutrin!  Guess that one didn't make it into the mouth that morning. 

I have yet to find a doctor, and I have asked at least six, that can explain the time-release effects, or even the specific meaning of the words to me.  It has always turned out to be a discussion in semantics.  I felt pretty good today, got all that EPA and DMV stuff cleared up with out a hitch and bought some peanut butter cookies, but I had to wonder what missing that pill yesterday meant.  I know when I was taking that crumby, crumbling, smelly, yellow generic, I was in a prolonged semi manic state that in actual fact provided many pleasant side effects, a huge weight loss, a million brilliant words carefully stored on memory sticks, a new attitude about partnership and "marriage", a new sense of me.  So I am almost tempted to try skipping a few more of those pearly white puppies and see what happens.  But I know when it happens I am unable to judge what is happening, whether or not I am enjoying it.  So, bummer.  I skipped a pill.  No big deal.  The whole bipolar thing?  No big deal.  I  guess. . .

LINK

This video took my breath away.  You HAVE to watch it.  I think it should turn civilization on its ear.  I cannot believe my reaction to it. I have to think about that. The phrase "open-sourcing" sounds so simple, but has to have more ramifications that I can possibly be aware of.  Please PLEASE leave comments for me.

 I hope it empowers people while there is still time for it.



http://www.ted.com/talks/marcin_jakubowski.html

NEWS OF THE DAY

A New Service

I mentioned before how I can bring the longest comment thread on almost any blog to a screeching halt.  It is kind of the same dynamic as always having beautiful weather when I am in Florida.  I told my folks that whenever their community is having a string of awful weather they should pay to fly me down there because I have never had anything but gorgeous days.  I don't mean the two instances are at all similar.  It just kinda seems like it is a force I unconsciously generate.  And I am betting if I thought about it long enough, I could probably harness it and make my fortune.  Too bad I am too fucking old to care. 

In the meanwhile, if you are a blogmaster, and you are too polite to say, "Shut the f- up folks and go home," link to me and I will drop one of my little bon mots, and believe me they are little, and the conversation will come to an abrupt end.  This one site, I do not know how I ended up on it, but it is a bunch of stodgy philosophers and I get more hits from it than any other, and I have done it twice this week and it is only Tuesday.  They go back and forth with me a while then drop their pens and walk away.  But I look at my stats and it seems they enjoy it cuz they keep coming back for more.  Too bad that particular demographic isn't big on reading contemporary love stories.  I'd a been translated into German months ago.

Life with Luigi

Conversation

Me: It didn't pass.  I knew they wouldn't pass it if the check engine light was on.  Since you are on Peterson road could you stop at the DMV?  They will give you an extension form so I can drive to get it fixed.

Person:  You have a month to get it fixed.

Editorial remarks:   Does that mean you won't stop at the DMV?  Does that mean you don't want to stop at the DMV?  Does that mean "Go to the DMV yourself, even though I am going to drive right past it in eight minutes and you are forty miles away from it"?  Does  that mean, "The fuck if I'll do you a favor"?  Does that mean, "Fuck you, Virginia"?    Does that mean "Fuck your stupid car, Virginia"?    Does that mean, "Fuck you and your stupid car, Virginia."

 Correct answer based on documented history:  All of the above.