TBD on Ning

Who's the new guy this time? Ya. You. New guy. Who are ya?

Most of the time I don't really care anymore. Haven't for a long time. No harm no foul, ain't that what they say? And if my ears ain't bleedin', well. What the fuck. I might as well: 

Don't Worry. Be Happy.

How the fuck did that song ever make the charts anywayz? . . . never mind. I digress.

I wrote a new poem. Didja hear? Yeah. Maybe. Maybe you did. I guess for anyone else who happens by, here it is:

The flesh is nothing

More than any other

Fading flower . . .

   D. Winter


I don't know if you've gotten up to speed, new guy. Maybe not. I find that hard to believe given the fact that information today can travel at the speed of light - but maybe. Maybe you've been a little behind. So lets just be sure you've had every opportunity to be squared away and up to date. Avail yourself or not - no judgements either way. 

Of course I'm lying, new guy. I'll judge, I'll just do my best to keep it to myself. Your level of competence has nothing to do with me.

Wednesday was a tough day, new guy. That had absolutely nothing to do with you. At least, not at the outset. And that was before Doc indicated that without treatment I've got less than a year. Just the facts, new guy. That's what she said. It's not all bad news, don't get me wrong. People are living years with my type of condition. Never mind the precise circumstances - age, lifestyle, potential quality of life,  all that. People are living years - if they tolerate the treatment. But any kind of progress is so relatively new that the over all numbers today, they're kinda meaningless. No one ever expected me to live this long as it is, least of all me - so like I said. Never mind age/lifestyle. I'm not here to depress anyone . . .

It's the adjustment, see? The future suddenly looks much different than it did three months ago. Now I have facts. Those facts have meaning. It's not an easy adjustment. 

Then there are all those bodies behind me. You know the ones. Or you should, if you've done your homework, new guy.

Jules. It aint right. She deserved better. Before your time, I'm sure.

Added a new one the first week of April. Not sure anyone's to blame there, but still. Sam was too young. Cancer just sucks.

Too young I say. With a hell of a lot more to offer this world, and our community, than I ever have had - or ever will. It aint right regardless of blame. It's just fucked up, new guy. See?

It's all a matter of acceptance - of perspective. I'm just not there. The random, senseless cruelty of this life. Sam

She had so much more to offer.

I would scream it out at the top of my lungs in the middle of this black night if I thought for one split second it would make one whit of difference but it will not and so I do not and so all I am left are these senseless bitter tears . . .




Wednesday was a tough day. It's all in the head. But when I get like that? You know it's probably gonna  happen again - right? You might want to think twice before filling up the empty parking lot with customers at 10 am when the store is usually dead quiet. It's nothing personal, dude. I've just been in and out of pocket since before your mid 30ish minions were born. So when I see the loose, non descript attire, the easy gait that hints at a certain athletic acquaintance spiced up with a touch of 'get it done' - adrenaline perhaps? 

Never in the line of my sight unless briefly passing by, never looking directly at me unless out of the corner of the eye -

. . . posing customers that make no purchase . . .

. . . exiting the store several minutes apart . . .

. . . separate cars that leave together . . .

Why didn't they split up? they should have - before they left the parking lot. Before I ended up last in line at the light - right behind them. I could have had their ids placed on file with the local PD pretty easy, couldn't I?  I just wouldn't have been able to fake an apologetic attitude. It wasn't in me. Bitter sadness and rage. That was all I had. Mostly rage. There was just no finesse to be had.


You know what I'm sayin, right? It's nothing personal, dude. Honest. I just been down a long road, I'm just another dog - that's all. Just another dog. Leaving that druggists counter I instantly expected either another kick, or a treat.  It's the conditioning. The fact is, I don't like either. Not when I'm in the box. I don't like the box. I don't like the 'conditions.'

My car has a router. Dude. I'm not going very far.

You can kick the dog. You can treat dog. You can leave the dog the fuck alone. Whatever. That's all on you. Just remember: when I don't have activity, responsibility, keeping me focused, keeping me grounded, keeping my brain on the 'now' rather than on any uncertain and yet almost certainly short and clearly difficult future, or on a past littered with so many lives seemingly broken and lost in some mad Pavlovian injustice - well.  My attitude may just go to shit. That's just the way it is - its nothing personal. When communication breaks down and progress isn't facilitated and my brain isn't grounded - if Wednesday wasn't clear enough then I guess you'll just have to see it again.

So there it is.

There it is.  You should know when I get like that I'm just not smart enough to give a fuck. That's just a fact. That was, I think, clearly established a long time ago. Before your time. Before I had an 'expiration date.'

Time is really all any of us ever has. We surround ourselves with all sorts of odd shit because we 'need' or because we 'want' - but Time really is our only true measure of wealth. And there's only so much of it for sale.

You know it's true, right? It's beginning to look like I ain't got shit to loose.

So - kick the dog; feed it treats; or leave it the fuck alone. It's all on you.

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Tags: FNG, Jules, Sam


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Comment by ZenDog on April 26, 2024 at 6:57pm

Cancer seemingly, in some small way, like the sun, the wind, the rain - seems to fall with indifference upon both the Just and the Unjust alike. It is an


Imagine that.



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