"The disposition of noble dogs is to be gentle with people they know and the opposite with those they don't know... How, then, can the dog be anything other than a lover of learning since it defines what's its own and what's alien." - Plato
Monday, October 11, 2010
This blog is my homepage. That means every time I log onto the internet, this is what I see first. Usually I click through as fast as I can, off to one of my links... Drudge Report, The Cheese Aisle or Boudicca's Voice. It makes me sad to see it sit, but it's been hard to restart and reset. The political climate in this country has me stressed to the point that my last post was a rant of such violent vitriol that someone who cares about me asked me to take it down. Sad part is, after I did, I realized she was right.
My 100 word muse seems to have stayed in Texas without me. My day to days seem to be unremarkable, even to me, I've been to four of five Pirate games, but can't even seem to bring myself to do game day reports... So, here it sits.
I think about some of the blogs that I loved so well that now sit idle.
For example: Bellerophon Chimera, who took a break and never returned, nothing to be done about it and Gut Rumbles, that went dark when Acidman was taken from us long before we were ready.
At least someone tried to keep Gut rumbles alive after Rob died, but it was an exercise in futility.
They sit like empty houses... structurally intact, but lifeless. I can go by, and look in the windows, but the words and thoughts are the same as the last time I looked, gathering dust and cobwebs in the form of spam in the comments... Even were I to open the door and walk through, the absence of the owners is palatable. My footsteps echoing through the old posts and any comments left are as useless as whispering to myself.
I don't want that to happen here, but I seem powerless to prevent it.
Several people have told me that when they see a girl with a tattoo they think of me. Some miss my stories. Some just wonder what happened to me.
When I click through, I hear this Tom Waits song in my head and it makes me sad.
There's a house on my block That's abandoned and cold Folks moved out of it a Long time ago And they took all their things And they never came back Looks like it's haunted With the windows all cracked And everyone call it The house, the house where Nobody lives
Once it held laughter Once it held dreams Did they throw it away Did they know what it means Did someone's heart break Or did someone do somebody wrong?
Well the paint was all cracked It was peeled off of the wood Papers were stacked on the porch Where I stood And the weeds had grown up Just as high as the door There were birds in the chimney And an old chest of drawers Looks like no one will ever Come back to the House were nobody lives
Once it held laughter Once it held dreams Did they throw it away Did they know what it means Did someone's heart break Or did someone do someone wrong? So if you find someone Someone to have, someone to hold Don't trade it for silver Don't trade it for gold I have all of life's treasures And they are fine and they are good They remind me that houses Are just made of wood What makes a house grand Ain't the roof or the doors If there's love in a house It's a palace for sure Without love... It ain't nothin but a house A house where nobody lives Without love it ain't nothin But a house, a house where Nobody lives.
A divorced northeastern North Carolina farmboy back in Carolina via Washington DC, a small Carribean island and Texas. Mostly self-educated I am the product of public schools, a few trips to college, the school of life (& hard knocks), a WWII veteran father who could build anything, and a Sunday School teacher mother who loved to read anything she could lay her hands on. As the youngest of five I am no stranger to having to defend my actions (not to mention myself).
"Mom and Dad say I should make my life an example of the principles I believe in. But every time I do, they tell me to stop it."
-Bill Watterson (Calvin & Hobbes)
If you look deeply into the palm of your hand, you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. All of them are alive in this moment. Each is present in your body. You are the continuation of each of these people.