inquiry

whatever comes to mind

Hello, Sunday!

Feels like it's been days since we last nodded.

Got me some great leftovers for breakfast, although it's looking rather grey out.

(Author has long preferred the 'e' spelling....)

There'll be more work to do today. How do I know? My wife put on her redundancy cap before listing just a tiny little slice of all we've to do. But I knew in advance it was mostly just needing to talk. And I get that, it being the mental equivalent of, well... elimination.

What I'm trying to tell you is there used to be a time when I'd stress over such lists. Fortunately, reality intervenes in the forms akin to aches, pains, backtracking, new thinking on a list bullet or two, exhaustion, etc. I'm just saying there's always ample supply of where to put blame for less than timely completion if and/or when progress drags.

Yesterday it came to mind how as a kid I loved hiding messages for future others in unobvious places. Of course, I didn't understand how ink fades, paper deteriorates in varieties of ways, water's solvent muscle, etc., etc., so probably few if any such little gifts made it to another's eyes.

I'm vaguely remembering feeling similarly about “local BBS's” when they “became a thing” – as though places to hide nuggets for randomly special others, maybe even in breadcrumbs-ian fashion leading unto interaction. I think that underlying theme slowly smouldered beneath most to all of my online involvement.

But it slowly became obvious online realms suffered their own kinds of dissolution, e.g. files deleted, links to nowhere, sites becoming walled, sites disappearing, the output of increasing numbers of participants drowning out my own secret messages.

Turns out scraps of paper, 3x5 cards, etc., are far less addictive and/or “reality masking” than the infinite screen. They also afford opportunities for doodling, drawing, arrow between scribbles. No need for a modem/router/provider. Cheap, easy, to the point, cost very much in line with what it's all really worth, etc.

An evening fireplace glow to a show set in olden-er days London, wife sleeping on the adjacent couch, body slowly recovering from a couple of weeks of labor this body might have giggled at 40 years ago.

Briefly talked to a college buddy earlier. Fun, but oh my how soon in such an endeavor one realizes where their bread is truly buttered.

If only the world could be as simple as mind would seemingly have – i.e. model – it, right?

But, well... words.. words.. and more words....

And then, oh, dear God:

“Realization is already there. The state free from thoughts
 is the only real state.”
                                   – RM
<next morning>

Don't buy a house if you don't like making decisions.

<later>

Speaking of which, another extremely productive day rehabbing the previous dwelling. Total exhaustion with a well-deserved side of giggle-grade satisfaction.

So here we have a Friday off work. No visitors. Pretty dang sore from a couple days of intense physical labor. Lotsa inner prayers my wife is feeling more on the lazy side.

(But then I vaguely recall some wisdom about learning to live sans intention, and realize it's all the same save for our thinking it isn't. In fact, thinking provides/is the differentiation – i.e. convincingly real conceptual overlay of an ineffable underlying same/one-ness.)

She stirs a bit. Oh please don't make me move yet! Or, worse yet, ask me to help make plans for the day. I can't stand plans. Better to accept/embrace than vainly attempt to dictate reality. As though any of us could be good at star alignment!

She does tend to suddenly be “ready” when I need just a few more minutes of post refinement consideration. Then in sits. Then I add the “<later>”. And so on.

Lost in thought, indeed....

Another day off (work) getting lots of residence stuffery done. Very satisfying. But we're sore as proverbial fuck, waiting for a pizza delivery.

Did I mention I had me a two-banger the other day? Yep. I have to believe that's not common for 60-year-olds. But, uh-huh. Yep.

<discovers he's too sore to pat him”self” on the back>

This ginger-beer-based mixer my wife made is a good blog post (obviously not this one) beyond amazing!

<later>

Ah... the difference pizza and an edible or two makes!

Bona fide rain. Faces in bushes. Yesterday's coffee.

So... the allegedly objective universe might be but a wispy blockchain of yet wispier thoughts (of sorts, of course..), fractal-filling-out unto all this...?

And yet still Mind Only™?

Memories flood back, yet even (saying) that conceals an assumptive stumbling block, for what if memories were simply thoughts spun in the context of a faith that they reference a past?

Oh my!

Another morning arrives. 'Tis grey, this one. Slight evidence of overnight rain I suspect isn't over. Plenty of muscle and joint ache, nicely mitigated last night by some good 'ole joint take.

Wife still asleep. Me still mostly news-less.

(I look up from the screen assisting the creation of this, and it feels a sort of swift return from a purely conceptual world far, far inwardly away, as though by one of those suction tubes at a bank drive thru.)

(The outdoor air has morphed from breeze to holy shit still.)

(The leftover steak is really hitting the spot.)

I rather enjoyed writing a review of the local brewery we visited yesterday. My wife was ecstatic it was for her site.

(Tosses the bone, puts Tupperware-ish container, fork, and knife in sink.)

It suddenly seems nearly infinitely silly to be agonizing to describe what could only be lessened – if not misleading – by description....

Wed Apr  7 09:44:10 *DT 2021
Perfect weather day in progress.

Sorted through a bunch of email en route to nearly inbox zero.

Probably paint and move some shit around at the old house at some point.

Employment seems such a distant memory. Pondering whether to quit, or see if the employer could bless my dropping down to part/half time.

So many interesting other income opportunities seem possible minus the time-suck of the job. They wouldn't amount to as much compensation, but

<later>

Okay. Can't say the painting was fun, because it never is. But we accomplished much, capping the evening off with a visit to the favorite local brewery – several great beers/shots, food, a small jazz ensemble, and phenomenal outdoor venue environs winking townsfolk into its welcoming arms.

Reading about old favorite baseball players. I was an Orioles fan as a kid, and the 1960s/1970s were a good time for that (acknowledging that their success were probably the main factor in attraction that direction). The pitching staff.. the Robinson's.. The Boog. They didn't make that shitty gum in the baseball card packs any fresher, but whatev.

Absolutely perfect sunny morning in progress, after a fabulous day with wife, brother, and sister-in-law outdoors of a winery that had some wonderful outdoor furniture on grass. Interesting kids and dogs in that space. A Greyhound, even. Human females with degrees of Greyhound abdomen. Ah, the shit that comes to mind amidst copious quantities of good craft beer....

<next day>

Super busy day despite being off work. We rented a U-Haul to acquire furniture pieces from one of my wife's sisters (who restores such), as well as a bed from one of her daughters. Things went mostly right, the notable exception being a “Jimmy Johns” (food chain) delivery that took on the order of 90 minutes to arrive, causing my wife and I to have to eat it in the truck on the way back to town instead of enjoying it with family, as there was a time limit on the truck, and we had two arduous delivery stops to make.

While we were gone, roofers completed the job, and the tree people removed some bushes. So, progress on many fronts!

“All mental is illness” feels more prescient by the day, especially subtitled with “and words are the contagion”.

I mean, it's no wonder the world got so much worse during the continuing plague also known as The Internet....

Family visiting. Roofers above us. Cold breakfast because sister-in-law decided to sleep in the family room instead of the bedroom, and I'm afraid operating the microwave will awaken her. My God, the multitude of ways we find to inconvenience others.

But are there others?

Oh my!

Not much writing of late. The whole internet seems increasingly stupid, as though at best a life-wasting procrastination device. I mean, chrissakes, as though others really need to know what I'm rando-accidentally thinking. And of course they don't, and are mostly too busy busting a keyboard to get their own rando-accidental thoughts before the eyes – and maybe ears – of others they've precious little to read – let alone fathom – others'.

Love affair with the other place seems firmly fizzled, I imagine due to having rando-accidentally arranged character and/or word sequences in ways that tripped others' self-righteousness alarms. You know.

So, I dunno. Whatever. The nothing-burger-ish-ness of thoughts, right? All alive due to attention, yet somehow also vying for it. Me me me! Pick me! Think and dwell upon me!

<days ago>

Damn, I hope I make the grade for a job I just applied for. Writing. Part time. Allegedly self-paced.

Oh, to be done with software....

<today>

Didn't. Well, but another appeared that I'm still in the running for. But do I want it? It claims “self-paced”, but there's been a lot of rah-rah build-up in email communications about the pace of others therein, what I could be earning if/when pushing it, etc. It's honestly looking like joining a far-less-than-idealistic writing factory.

And, I mean... Isn't everyone tired enough of so much of everything being fucking made up?

<as April snowflakes fall>

Got some painting done at the old place, yesterday. It's rather coming along.