All posts in October 2022

2018: Reflections on Me and Dad, sandwiched between random thoughts, while Dad Explains the Universe in Red, Redder, Reddest Sound Bites

(That’s not Commie Pinko Red, that’s Republican Red. This man was meant to take his guns to rural Montana or Idaho, closing the chained gate behind him.)

Old. So old, my dad. Anti-Trumpers? EVIL. Shoot them? He’s not quite sure yet. Incarcerate them? If they get in Donald’s way, then…  Whatever. Deport them. Bleach them. Let the zombies have them. Dad Limbaugh Hannity’s on, explaining life inside his bubble.

Mom: Quiet. Small words. Short thoughts. Peace and ice cream. Red velvet muffins. Cookie trail crumbling across ancient threadbare carpets. Smile. I’m here. Gloats zip by, forever monologue. White noise world.

Morning. Porch. Bricks hold the door. Nuclear heater blasts silent heat. Solar sun-catcher pilgrims wobble wobble wobble. Radio NOISE. Breadcrumbs. Woodpile. Squirrels, and probably racoons and big, fat Norwegian rats; shred more bread. We don’t waste food here. Seagull. Crows. He holds out his hand. Vitamin C, C, C. The crew of the Good Ship Tacoma House may go deaf from that radio, but no one will get scurvy. Pliers. Why? (Jocelyn: very old dog.com/net/org attempting new tricks) Drip drip drip; dad monologuing endless politics in the dark. I get him more coffee; I wish I could drink that much coffee.

Meanwhile, I think rest, teaching, students, friends, randomness and projects. Endless open lakes, dragons, unknown games and gamesmanship, ice cream (one whole freezer, full), ears, white noise, tinnitus, blah, blah, talking, without even knowing the way, open tired, Priscilla, Samuel, Ben, Shaun, Dan and Mike, Ginger, Jason, Ronnie, boxes, box cutters, way finder, any finding, days, sweats, cotton, stuff so much stuff, panic, pressure, release, freedom, Jon Kabat Zinn, feet, therapy pool, massage, nails, hair, lips,  blankies, mommies, time, time, time, zebras, hoofprints, trackers, zoos, zombies, freedom, bleach, bleach, spray nozzle, dead ants, roaches in boxes, education, permutations, emasculations, desecrations, footwear, bona fides, authenticity, forcefulness, use the Force, Luke, find the tomatillos Luke, faces, races, where will it take us? Darkness, I-5, bears, pain, fix pain. No gain. Time inside out.

Later, lovingly, I will doordash my aging parents the shrimp fried rice they love. Or maybe a sausage omelet with extra gravy on the hashbrowns. I go to check the coffee pot, then cut mom a delicious chunk of Costco chocolate muffin.

Zombie phrase of the day: You can make a brain latte with a blender. Ooohhh gahhh bahhhgg uhhh bain ahhhattay ihh uhhh behhhdehrr.

Only three masks here

A church manifesting faith

I’m not sure in what.

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Covid has come and seemingly gone, though it remains to offer an occasional lesson. Here is mine for today: When someone posts on social media to say, “I have Covid, please cheer me up,” the right response is not, “I had it. I still can’t hear or taste although taste is getting a little better. The big problem is I am still foggy and can’t think.”

That’s an ironically non-thinking response or perhaps a narcissistic one. I immediately thought of pregnancy disaster stories. “My sister had to be life-flighted to (Big-City-Here) because she was hemorrhaging so badly. No one thought either one would survive!” is not an appropriate share. Not even with best of intentions. Not until well after the baby is born. Maybe not even then.

Here’s a question to start with before speaking or hitting the send button: What will make my friend/acquaintance feel better right now?

Yes, we all screw up in conversation sometimes, especially when we listen in order to talk, rather than listening so we can learn. But sharing with a kindly purpose in mind, instead of a desire to rack up “likes” or other cybertokens of popularity, can help this one-upmanship from blasting off in a blaze of misplaced self-aggrandizement.

Another starter sentence:

How can I help him/her/them/ze/per/this person?