Not liking the American values regarding this time too much right now so before I give thanks let me assert the following:

The creep of consumerism is unabated. Allegedly in a recession, Americans move "Black Friday" further up into what once was hallowed Thanksgiving time... Bad enough that idiots would get up at 4am to buy anything but now I believe it is starting at Midnight. In 5 years, we will be having Thanksgiving Lunch and then everyone will disperse from the table and go to a fucking store---to spend money that they don't have on crap that they don't need. The message of the first TGiving---appreciation, cooperation, setting aside differences and coming together over a meal, sharing gifts etc. is dangerously becoming absent amongst the futile pursuit of filling the hole in our soul with material goods. Constantly getting without giving pollutes our hearts, minds and souls. Stop it.

NOW....

I have a lot to gripe and be dissatisfied about. But....

I am thankful for my upbringing in a family that loved and accepted me even when I gave them ample reasons not too.

I am thankful for having a few people in my life I can count on...for almost anything. Lonliness is a sickness that cannot be cured via a prescription or visit to a health care provider.

I am thankful for being alive...when many others who may have deserved it more no longer are.

I am thankful for entertainment of many sorts. The feeling of anticipation can be lost with age. Enjoyment of the arts and sports hangs on. Thankfully.

I am thankful for young people. They aren't so jaded and this infects me and makes me feel better.

I am thankful for some wonderful memories. Alzheimer's may be the most existentially repulsive disease as it erases your entire life.

Other things shallowly relevant: naked girls under 30, PS 3 and Madden 11, coffee, crock pots,

a paycheck, cigarettes (still), high def TV's.....not exactly proud of those but,,,,oh well.

Happy Thanksgiving! Don't buy anything.

HALLOWEEN PT 2

So after the whole death thing is trotted out, duly noted confronted and made fun of -(See Irish funeral custom of dancing on the grave) and sewn into the natural fabric of the seasonal cycle we can now move to part 2.

I like the Halloween tradition of dressing up into some subconscious, inner layer revealing costume. While not wanting to overread psychology into it, I do think that every mental health profile should include the question "What did you go out as on Haloween when you were a kid?".

I think the answers would just be as indicative as any MMPI, Meyers Briggs or Rorshach test,

Just a few to consider:

Superheroes? that's cool. maybe chronic underachievers have their day. Ghastly ghouls and costumes of serial killers and movie demons have to indicate some underlying anger problem or sublimated fury, don't they? How about the witch, the vampire, Frankenstein? I say those folks are just staunch traditionalists and secure in nostalgia. The pregnant nun and other funny get ups no doubt signify the jokester role and the teweakng of social mores. And of course, my favorite, the SEXY anything. There is a large number of females ages 14-beyond who see the Haloween costume as the great opportunity to release their inner slut. And to close, the couples outfits can be romantic--the peanut butter and jelly jars, mickey and minnie mouse and the pimp and the prostitute all advertise "we go together".

What did you dress up as and why? What are your favorites? As for me, my grandmother just suggested putting on my regular "play" clothes and going out as a bum. Austerity and practicality always trump any kind of elaborate ego/super ego/id/ perspective. And then as a teen of course, we looked FOR the house that was giving out the drugged candy. In adulthood, there were a couple of occassions where I put on a nasty mask and scared the kids of my house and the neighborhood but I knda felt uncomfortable as I was forced to ask "Why am I enjoying this so much?" . The answer of "kids like to be scared shitless" would be inappropriate and punishible in a court of law except on ...............Oct 31............when primitive emotions rule the hour. That's good by me.

WHY I LIKE HALLOWEEN. Part 1.

Some may suggest that Halloween is a frivolous and child-centered celebration. Some may object to it by claiming that it is macabre, mischievious and comprises a maelstrom of worshipping demons and devils. (Which it may be but, -hooray for that too)..... I am not one of those bird brains.

Recent consumer research shows Halloween is ranked 2nd in terms of the amount of cash that is plopped down by Americans--second only to its Glenda Good Witch Doppelganger Image -- better known as Christmas. Monies are spent for costumes (for those uncreative beings) , house and outdoor decorations, pumpkins and candies et al. It is fun and outlandish and this makes it delicious.

However, if one peels back the layers of human (ok, onion) skin, there are a few distinct psychological things a goin on here that make it a lil more interesting. So here is Part 1.

It's the whole Death thing. Death for me evokes Fear and Trembling. I'm not Zen. I'm totally not OK with it. As my early and best mentor Cambell Crockett mentioned once, "It certainly has an air of finality about it". We avoid death, dead people, all things associated with it and live by constantly ducking its shadow. Except on the approach to and day of Halloween. We put reminders of it in our yards!!! Grave stones and spiders and zombies and all things in the cornocopeia of creepy. We let it in. And confront the scariness and the end. And to a large extent, enjoy it....Maybe there is a vestige of fooling around with spirits but we don't see these ghosties bathed in white light and golden robes but rather in bloody, dismembered, hatchet in the brain horrific portrayals.

Give the gore its due. Acknowledge evil. Typically we tell the kids its OK because it's "FAKE". Well, maybe they'll buy that.....for awhile.

PICTURE LEGEND: L- Kins proving screaming comes naturally R My neighbor Ed goes all out for the 'Ween!!!

SMART PHONES ARE FOR STUPID PEOPLE

Overheard Circa 1988, Old Chemistry Bldg,:

*Prof. Richardson (Idiot egghead, computer fascinated, small penised, friendless Dept. Head: "C'mon John, technology has done some good things".

*Prof McEvoy (really cool devout Marxist from working class London): " Name three."



Following from the above, I find myself intrigued by the relentless overtaking of society by the cell phone....err....rather smart phone as it is now called and its accompanying infection of human beings of all socio -economic backgrounds, ethnicities, IQ's and age demographics. Everybody has one. Some have 2. Gadgets? OK. A necessity? FUCK NO. What for? Why?



The only decent argument I can see is for safety. It can be comforting to know that if your car breaks down there is a lifeline to someone. This may work for your self, your wife, your kids etc. and we can all feel better knowing we are not trapped and vulnerable and forced to rely on .....ah, ourselves and/or others to get us out of this mess. Apparently society is far too dangerous to just flag down a passing motorist, walk a mile to a nearby public establishment or house and ask for assistance. God forbid, if someone pulls over and offers help. That is the first clue they are a maniacal mass murderer/thief/ rapist. So I suppose you make the call locked in your car. Well, given this example, you really don't need a cell phone, you need a fucking gun. Fuck Verizon...Viva Smith and Wesson. Argument 1 dismissed. The only personal safety device that is failsafe is your common sense. And that is not 59.99 a month... but I do encourage the unlimited use of it.



So what of the reason why? They must be powerful ones as the phone goes everywhere with you, probably to more places than your significant others and kids. You're never without it. Why? Someone may be trying to reach you? Like who? A dying relative? Well then what the fuck are you out at Target shopping for? You should be there...actually.... WITH THEM.

Are you really that important and/or popular? Probably not. So does that make this some subconsciuos narcissistic thang going on? I don't know. All I know is alot of the times I don't answer my home phone cause I don't know who is calling now that I gave up the bundle pack ( caller ID, call forwarding and other innane "features"). And here is the crux of my view::::

It's OK to NOT be available!!!!!!!!!!!!!



Enjoy your unavailablity....Drive the car around with your favorite music and not worry about being interrupted while you are alone. Go somewhere and be cut off from your normal life people bugging you . Didn't that used to be the beauty of a vacation? Vaca --- verb --Latin --to go away.

You were really gone. And, man, didn't that make coming back all that much better?

Now, we never get to enjoy the feeling of saying an emotionally laden "Hello, I missed you".



If there is a trend towards fucked up interpersonal and relationship skills in HELLO AMERICA I put some of the blame on the cellies. People are rarely with people anymore. I mean even when you are out one on one or with a group that damn phone is there too. I want to really be IN THE PERSON. (Figuratively for most- but literally as well in a few cases and you know who you are.)

I AM INTO YOU and want to be with you and will give you the respect and attention you deserve and that I demand by leaving that fucking phone in your car. You can check it in a few hours. You'll have a text that says " The baby is pooping again. When will you be home?" or a voice mail from somebody saying he was just calling to catch up cuz its been a long time ---which really translated means --- really I'm too busy and don't think enough of you personally or our friendship to do more than call about every 2 months asshole. Riveting stuff....

PICTURE LEGEND: 1 moment in time, 5 hotties, 3 visible cell phones....

(Just for Jenae):

5 Really Great Movies ( and I HATE movies...)

Please bear in mind I am an Art snob...Watch these and if you don't like them I will reimburse you 15 dollars for the two hours of your life you will never get back per film. For an exhaustive list of movies please see facebook page of David M. Troup. It will bore your ass off. These won't:

BARFLY-

Mickey Rourke and Faye Dunaway in the loosely autobiographical story of writer Charles Bukowski. "I'm tired of thinking about all the things I don't want to do....I'm tired of thinking about all the things I don't want to be...."

BILLY MADISON

Adam Sandler's first and best. Ridiculous characters with Steve Buscemi, Chris Farley, Darrin McGavin, Norm McDonald and a whole bunch more. Get stupid.

CASABLANCA

Bogart understands the abyss....ALLURING

Let's Spend the Night Together

Lovely film of the 1981 Rolling Stones Tour when they still aimed for the crotch. One film critic described the on screen appearance of Keith Richards and Ron Wood as looking like " a pair of diseased crows." Good schtuff there. :) Best enjoyed with a bottle of Rebel Yell Southern Sour Mash with a splash of ginger ale and some weed. But delightful sober as well. Watch Keith croon "Little T and A" or enjoy a romantic moment looking at the sunset over Sun Devil Stadium in Arizona as the love chords of "Beast of Burden" compel you to make out with the person next to you.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974 Original)

If you give it a chance, you will see it is a suspense film more than anything else. Debut of Tobe Hooper who's low budget filming out of necessity only added to the effect. Also, really no gore or violence , gratutious topless girl /sex bull shit ....just an incredible last 1/2 hour of sheer panic. Also can be interpreted as an anti-Technology, pro Animal Rights statement. This film really created an entire genre. Try it around Halloween.

Drama, Comedy, Romance, Musical, Horror -that about covers it.

ARS GRATIA ARTIS

WHERE IT ALL WENT RIGHT

Reminiscing is mental comfort food without the calories and the twisty turny stream of the subconscious has carried me back to elementary school as of late. Grades K-5 I have only brief flashes of recollection-- peeing myself in reading circle, some fat 4th grade teacher and watching the World Series in some afternoon classroom. Or maybe it was a Space launch, or both. No matter. Regardless, the sixth grade smacks of one huge experience involving a perch, a scalpal and a girl. How do those things all make it into the same memory box you ask? Well, I fell in love with a girl named Amy over the dissection of a fish in Biology class. The pheromone gods were not even smiling on us that day. Olfactorily speaking, the formaldehyde + pickle + alcohol scent of that days lesson stayed in the foreground. But, despite the stench of science, something more incredible than the Big Bang, some heretofore non existent emotion was virginally birthed on that day leaving me covered in scales and guts ( the fish) and a feeling of warmth, caring and love ( Amy). The sparky tool that lit the Bunson burner also ignited and excited the flame in my soul as well.

Over the next two years, we became "girlfriend and boyfriend" in the strictest definition of the kid version of those words and somewhat surprisingly were held to a lot of the same rules and expectations that peer pair partners of any age would be. You could only roller skate with each other, you were forced to occassionally abandon your male buddies on the playground and eschew football and pretend to watch with glee the hopscotch , jump rope or baton twirling activities the girlies enjoyed at lunchtime. The fellas ribbed ya but those guys who had GF's took it easy and kinda understood--as if quietly acknowledging it wasn't a pleasant but a very necessary sacrifice and it could be their turn tomorrow with blacktop chalk in hand non verbally communicating "Yes Dear" at 12 years of age. And of course the opposite sex rumor mill drama was in play too::::Lori Falls let Tony Tassett feel her up at an R rated movie. I heard Neal Mecklenburg called Candee Lawson last nite and by the way did you give Diana Kern a pack of Starbursts because if you did we might be breaking up??? ( For the record, as to the last accusation, I was indeed innocent.)

No one has captured me since the way Amy did. It was like she was the archetype of goodness, the physical representation of all that is innocent and right. Absolute Purity in a Catholic school uniform. Some have come close, some have opened new doors of experiences smacking both of romantic passion and debased debauchery and 2 or 3 others have been momentously loved. But adored? Revered? Cherished? No. Those verbs were hers and hers alone.

Fast forwarding over the ensuing 35 years or so I can report that Amy still visits me in my dreams 3 or 4 times a year. It is always experienced as if you had found the thing that you held the most dear in your heart and as an infinite treasure you thought was lost but that you have now been reunited with.
We laugh and feel close. We dance to pop hits of the 70's and look into each others eyes as we sing sappy love songs confidently knowing that no one else gets it the way we do or has what we have. A shared secret and sentiment foreign to everyone else on earth.

Awake, I linger on the dream recall, smile and wish.

MY FAVORITE FACEBOOK FRIEND

Putting other people's words on your blog does not make you lazy but rather transforms you into a prospector who finds a mineral motherlode after much digging and sifting. And so, enjoy these deep emotional nuggets from my misguided/on target friend who stares down the abyss in her own special way:

PIC: A.S. (the blond) w/her bestie E.M. There were way worse/better photos but I was sensitive to the confidentiality factor-not that she would give a shit.

Portion of her Profile and Info:





Interests:
cities, cigarettes, speedy, nights that end the next morning, mixes, gum, cheap wine, dresses as shirts, cocktails, dinner and drinks, serial killers, good books, the 60s, my car, and edith minturn sedgwick
"We mistake lust for love and pop more pills, slam more drugs, drink ourselves silly or end us, scraping the inside of a pipe just to hit the resin and flush life down a toilet."
Oh, I go there. I'm a good time. Impress me

I hate facebook, and my life rules. Let's get drinks and get inspired





Slices of her life:





just woke up. not really sure how i'm still alive.3:55 PM Jul
YOU'RE THE TOTAL OPPOSITE OF RELIABLE. cheers to that5:02 PM Jul 3rd from web
slosh fest at my apartment come theee fuck overr10:34 PM Jul
pour me another cause i can still see the floooorr.7:00 PM Jun
how the fuck do you get red wine off the walls?2:30 PM
shelly's blood is still everywhere.6:37 PM Jun 24th
ON MY WAY TO THE HOSPITAL LOL THIS ISN'T FUNNY YET1:30 PM Jun 24th from
i'd be lost without my advil PMs.7:29 PM Jun 18th from
got barked at on york avenue1:28
Why can't you leave already?8:10 PM May
I'd like long, dark, bold eyelashes 24/7. But not the clumpy kind.1:33 PM Jun 12th from web
i've had lovers for so many years i've begun to have affairs7:25 PM Jun 9th from
cigarettes and champagne in my bubble bath. the good life4:33 PM Jun 8th from web
totally in love with my belgian film studies professor. what. a. stud.12:01 PM
Vermont ruled. Wine picnics and going into salt caves drunk. I've decided if you don't care, I don't either. What the fuck is Easter?4:21 PM Apr 12th from web





What her friends tell her:


we are the biggest homos and i love you and i hope youre listening to underoath because me and kira were and i was jammin out and it reminded me of the good ol days but i already told you this. have fun with your 17 year old friend you fucking pedophile...i dont know what the city has done to you, but last time i checked, we had standards.LOL JK, STANDARDS? WHAT ARE THOSE? maybe theyre things that coexist with shame which has been stricken from our vocab since about 8th grade post climbing my fat ass out of your basement window. love you forevsies, this is getting long and obnoxious butttttt okay bye

next dayy i have off imma come to the cityy and we can fuck shitt up! i can't even begin to explain how much i miss waking up to you on the floor with a box of cheeze-itz on your head





no matter how shameful the story i tell you, you always make me hang up the phone wanting to do it again. i hope you enjoyed ya bubble bath, love and miss you ♥



eating cold pizza and drinking captain morgan.... it's 5:44 in the morning.... wtf am i doing lOVE YOU



I feel sorry for her and envy her at the same time..............

Moratorium on Stuff

I am boldly declaring that the world should immediately cease and desist from making more stuff. Why? Because there is plenty of it floating around already. Like chairs for instance. There are plenty of antique, old, semi-old, gently used, like-new and brand new chairs in existence at this point in time. There are 10,000 different stlyes with 10,000 different colors and that is enough. Take your pick from those. Don't make no more!!! Same goes for tables, couches, dressers, clothes, pots, pans, hoses, book shelves (AND BOOKS), flower pots, CARS and silverware. Cultivate scarcity. Stop making shit. Stop buying shit. Let's create a government agency that will have to declare an item kaput. Office of the Inspector General of the Obsolete. They have to issue a sticker to affix onto an item before you can throw it out. And then only 1 new one of those can then be produced.

I notice no audible difference between the sound coming from 1977 8 tracks and 2010 mpeg digital downloadable tunes. If necessary, a newly created Dept of Technology may allow an occassionally socially transforming invention to be placed on the market with the caveat of "1 per household". None of this nonsense of 4 wireless laptops, 6 tv's and 4 cars for a family of 4. (Are we really surprised that our relationships suck?)

Endorse minimalism. Give some stuff away-NOW. Give--not sell! We know you like your great grandfather's headboard and teacup collection but nobody wants to pay 175.00 for them. And they won't--so just give them away. You'll feel better. All the memories you need are in your head anyway.

And those don't scratch, dent , nick, bend or rust. And they can't be sold. But are, however, easily shared.

Picture legend: The Greek island of Delos. There is nothing there and the total number of inhabitants are 14. (mostly archeologists) It used to be a major commerce and religious center 2000 years ago. Stuff doesn't last. I was there and took a rock. It seemed really important to do that at the time as a memory piece. I have no idea where it is now.

Funder's List #1

Too late to write but never too late for lists. The importance, function and health promoting benefits of lists could be an entire blog itself......

Travel Memories that just now surface on their own and get quickly commented on:

1) Sitting in the middle of SR 664 in Hocking County at 3 am under the influence of alcohol, marijuana, LSD and who knows what else with my two best friends circa 1981 in 0 degree temperature. No one around except one Park Ranger who knew we owned the land.

2) Delos--a very archeological and ruinous Greek Island inhabited by 3 or 4 researchers and some wild dogs. Previously a hub of Mediterranean commerce, religion and culture. I arrived too late for that in 1997. Fast forward to 2010 and I realize that Greek women have a very uncommon beauty. Thanks for that Vasia.

3) Holiday Inn Linn Street Cincinnati Ohio 1982 -Girls in sheets, near fisticuffs with the Southern Rock group Molly Hatchett- ( they threatened to kill me but I calmly took a drink out of my fifth of Jim Beam and looked em in the eye and said "Go for it!". Luckily they were pussies.) Hospitable manager -after receiving many complaints- offers to give us rooms on an empty floor and even have someone move the kegs out of the bathtub for us.

4) First non family trip to New Orleans French Quarter 1987 with hot girlfriend. Did dumb stuff like dinner, Zoo, Tulane University but it didn't matter because you knew at the end of the day good sex was a given.

5) Village of my origin- Periam, Romania 1976 Enjoyed being chased by geese and gypsies and having my Aunt cook and wash. With no electricity/running water, nighttime was always an adventure.

6) First Big Ten Tournament - Palmer House Hotel, Chicago Illinois 199? Great friends, good seats courtesy Penn State (because no one that was actually affiliated with PSU wanted to attend), the best food at The Rosebud and Kostas and pretty damn good shower sex. There is no better place for me to stay in Chicago than the Palmer House. Period. Art Museum a block away. Fuck fish, fuck the Navy Pier, fuck Michigan Ave, fuck the stupid tall bldg whose name I forget.... You just need to go and stay at the Art Museum and Palmer House. For weeks.

7) Almost anyplace in Florida: Gainesville and the great people and kids at Job Corps "go around the lake to get to the dorms and watch out for the alligators". First and only time I had a curse placed on me by Haitian girls. U of F students rock . Tampa and the friendly ladies...Cape Coral/Ft Myers for taking the kids on vacay and tons of boating, Miami -Fountainbleu Hotel . The Keys and deep sea fishing. Ft Pierce - where I saw a man showering with a monkey at the public docks .....Sand, heat, lizards, ocean, little or no clothing....Shit, why does anyone live anywhere else?

8) Palm Desert CA Joshua Tree National Forest- cactus, coyote (but too old for peyote) desolate yet peaceful, short drive back to the lost luxury of Palm Springs and vicinity. Take a month or two and just sit....La Jolla, CA as well... horses, money, restaurants and with a special significant other, very romantic.

9) Santa Fe New Mexico with the sexiest hottest girl from work whom you have wanted for years and with the (again romantic) adobe, art, mexican food and cerveza and the HOTT frying at the pool all day finally giving way to a chilly retreat into the 68 degree conditioned air /pressed clean sheets/drowsy but arousy collapse onto bed when , with her green eyes closed, she smiles and says " You don't have to stop" .

10) Rome- Although I was only 12, I still felt the romance. I was in love with my 8th grade first time crush and I missed Amy Hot Dog terribly. Ahhh, but the romance--- it literally kinda just hangs in the air --especially at night. Unfortunately, I felt it alone, likely in the bathroom of the hotel room at the Cavalieri Hilton....


Apologies to Los Angeles, San Diego, Denver, Montreal, Toronto, Atlanta, Dallas, London, Amsterdam, Vienna, Budapest, Venice, Munich, Zurich, Paris, Belgrade, Istanbul and lots of other exotic and/or slightly less spectacular locales--------not enough to jar my memory at this time. Maybe later. I'll have to do a romance check on those recollections.

Egg

I was once instructed not to put all my eggs in one basket.

Why not? Well, if you lose the handle of the basket then you have a bunch of broken eggs which is not good unless you were planning on making an omelette and drop them near a stove. I suppose you could have a separate basket for each egg but that may get out of hand pretty quick. Even a dozen eggs would require 12 separate recepticles which would be pretty hard to manage and carry and you would wind up dropping some of them anyway. Common sense wins out by putting 12 eggs in a carton. But I've seen mega-cartons with 18 eggs in them and I consider that pushing the damn envelope pretty far.

I know a person who raises about 50 chickens and she just walks out and gathers a few eggs each day, does the carton thing and then puts them in a refrigerator. Unfortunately, her toddler son walks around the coop and doesn't change shoes or follow hygiene prompts and he contracted some kind of chicken virus which led to the health department making a visit to the property which then in turn caused the township to send letters basically indicating that it is pretty fucking stupid to be raising chickens in a suburb. Especially when the roosters crow before dawn pissing off the neighbors who own $180,000 houses and have no interest in pretending to live next door to a bed and breakfast/petting zoo.

But unfertilzed chicken embryos- aka - "eggs" refuse to be erased from our culture. We eat them strait in a variety of forms from raw to scrambled, add them to all sorts of stuff (salads, cakes, even meat loaf) , and university students and team building assholes still try and engineer the perfect protective cocoon for them. "Egg on your face" , "Egg him on", " Walking on egg shells"and the most significant quandary ever of " Which came first? The chicken or the egg?" all still apply. Although the above question may seem intriguing, the correct answer of one celled viruses really does destroy any further philosophical debate.

So I conclude the following: adore the egg. Make it your False God and Ovum Idol. Put 164 in a basket, let them spill out, break and cover the earth with yolky goodness. Throw them at teachers you hate, cheating boyfriends, whorish coaches who leave town and any other person who needs to be taught a god damn lesson. If the recipe calls for 2 eggs--fucking double it and throw in 4. Collect crystal Faberge eggs and cheap plastic egg timers. Buy one of those silver egg slicers, put a string of beads on it and wear it as a necklace or better yet, give one as a wedding present. Everyone should respect the egg.

Picture guide: Michelle aka "Cheeze" designing the rare Jim Beam egg.

Seasoning

How in touch am I really with the changing of the seasons ?

Having just come through Winter without really wearing a coat I must conclude very little. Oh, it was plenty snowy and cold but...with the house set at a balmy 72, a remote car starter for the lowlife garageless subculture-(standard on the car I might add), offices and other places heated, uh , what exactly is the hardship?

The weather and seasons may change but the thermostat stays the same...Same deal in the hot hot hot sticky summer. Anymore I hardly notice. 72 degrees: all day, all over, wherever, whenever. Got that"conditioned air" going .

I remember growing up having one small room with a window A/C unit and the door kept closed for comfortable TV viewing for the family. 15' by 15 ' respite. Watched the Reds in 85 degree weather and never even felt remotely connected to what's outside. Conversely, I also had the pleasure of periodically using an outhouse at the lavish vacation get away. In humid conditions and complete with the small but effective hornet's nest above the inside left corner, that tweren't no picnic either. But you sure as fuck knew you were outside and in the elements.

My buddy Paul does not believe in A/C without the appearance of a 9 and a 0 in the temperature. Over 90, he gets conditioned. Under that number and he simply drinks cold beer and sweats.

Memo to self: maybe try and experience the environment a little more, huh?

What say you Mr Wilson?

Picture guide :

Upper left - My neighbor Jack snow blowing my sidewalk/driveway while I usually stand and wave to him in the window wearing a t-shirt and shorts.

Lower center: Kinsley cutting the first flowers in the back earlier today. Took about 5 minutes.

Upper right- Dawn at the Beach. I wasn't there.

Neeley

My grad school buddy Neeley recently died at age 52 likely from either an intended or miscalculated mixture of booze and xanax. He got his JD and then quickly concluded that lawyers were assholes and so returned to school to get his PhD in Philosophy where our paths crossed. We spent 3 years together. He studied and wrote alot . I pretty much just got high, read and then got high some more. We shared a few common pursuits: love of the absurd, getting drunk, laughing, Nietzsche and Schopenhauer, thinking, and chasing girls until they spent the night in our great (but sparsely outfitted) condo. A twin mattress layed directly on the floor without boxsprings or a frame does have certain advantages when you are drunk and amorous and spatial boundaries and physics tend to only get in the way. The loves of Stacy Squirrel, Amy BearKitten, The Wilson Sisters, Tina Tank, Cathy Cream Pie et. al. were true and deep if rather short lived and fuzzy.

Neeley once told me he read a comic book about a WWII fighter Ace who would display his trophies, certificates, awards and other memorabilia on the wall. He said that's what he thought life was pretty much about. We just collect symbols of our experiences, hang them on the wall and periodically look at them or show them off to others. No more, no less.... Kids, jobs, vacation pictures, degrees- all the bullshit nuts and bolts of life- are really just trophies that remind us of what we did to get them. He perservered and collected plenty of those. No master plan or deity, just determination and distraction. I'm not sure he was ever happy but he was driven.

He always got really depressed around Christmas and would hope to catch some disease or other debilitating illness for the entire Holiday Season. He liked fast cars, collecting and shooting AK 47's and lifting weights religiously. I don't know what those mean.

He wrote two very scholarly books: "The Constitutional Right to Suicide" and "Schopenhauer: A Consistent Reading" ....You can Google them and buy them but I'm not sure why you would. They are pretty hard to read and follow. He liked to use an average of like 26 footnotes per page. He won lots of student awards at his college for being a great teacher. He took extra time to talk to the kids outside of class about "life things". They weren't an inconvenience but really the reason why he was there. He felt obliged and honored to return the favor that some professor had previously done for him. He liked to drink with them too. And still gave them funny names like Daisy, Katrina by the Marina and Rhonda Rat.

I found out he died by a message left by his "fiancee" who said he had been so happy lately. Usually when he called me and was drunk he just called her a fucking bitch and would then break out into some Country Western tune--slurred and off key by more than an octave. He always called her his girlfriend and I tend to think she was a bit of whack job. I could be wrong, but Neeley was never ever happy. Not now, not then , not ever. If she didn't know that then she wasn't a fucking bitch but would be better described as a fucking idiot.

He and I could be content for a second, satisfied for a bit longer, entertained, distracted, temporarily free through substances ( or girls) , pleased, excited, and proud but, ....happy? Probably not. But it was ok because the other stuff was enough. The collection of life trophies, a good drink, a cold beer, a contemplative walk, a rigorous drive in an old IROC, the intimacy from a woman and most of all a hearty laugh at ourselves, you, our lives and yours.

I hadn't seen him in a while and his recent pictures were that of an overweight, bloated, greying, tired man who looked older than his early fifties. Nothing like the grad school picture you see above. I don't know if that means anything except that the human aging process is not kind.

I'm not sure if it matters to me whether he actively set out to off himself or if it was an "accidental overdose". I guess I'd like to know. Hell, maybe he was really happy for the past month and figured that now may be as good a time as any to make it the last word of the last sentence of the last chapter. But I don't think so. He had just started a new term and above all, Neeley met his obligations--especially to his students. He was like a Philosophy Professor and Navy SEAL combined. He wouldn't have left anybody behind. Plus he would have left a note as his last writing effort.... and it would have had at least 50-75 footnotes in it. And he would have called one more time and sang Merle Haggard drunk and eagerly reminisce about the perfume that Amy BearKitten wore to class and how he fully understood Kierkegaard through her pheromones. And how my long hair looked like a horsetail when it was pulled back and that Stacy Squirrel would braid it in class--- not needing to take notes as there was an implicit, intended contract that a student who sleeps with their TA does not need to stress about tests.

And so I'm pretty sure he wanted to stick around. And that's why I'm sad. "Gone forever" is a fucking bitch too.