antidepressant

I take an antidepressant everyday. It's not a drug, but works just as well or really, a lot better. I simply text my best friend and she texts me back. It always makes me smile, sometimes I giggle. Yep, the old man still has some giggles left in him and she finds them every time. I love her for it. We are peas in a pod. Like goofy kids in school.
When I'm with her time stops. Or rather, it goes too fast. Way too fast. Hours evaporate. When I'm not, everything I do reminds me of her. She is the catcher on my baseball team. Catching all my dreams and pop flys. She is my running back. She scores touchdowns and never fumbles. She smiles at me in a way that melts my heart. I can't take my eyes off of her.
She is my sophisticated date at the best restaurants in town. She always tries to get the check before I can. She charms the waitstaff. She leaves a big tip.
She is my candied apple. My pumpkin pie. My heart.
She is everything to me. She is my best friend. She makes me a better person.
I love my best friend.
I always will.

pepa asalto

Is from Buenos Aires, Argentina. She is beautiful. In spirit and appearance. She is intelligent, sophisticated and charming. She is my friend. I am lucky that she chooses to be my friend also.
In her honor,  I support Argentinian football and I don't call those islands the Falklands, I call them the Isles Malvinas.
I would love to go to Buenos Aires. Meet Pepa,  her husband and her children. I'm sure I would be brought into her home and treated like a long lost friend. A kindred spirit. A world citizen. Like her.
It probably won't happen. But that doesn't matter so much. We are both Americans (there is a north and a south, you know) and we are friends. I will always have a place in my heart for her. I hope she's made room in hers for me.
Vamos Argentina!

let's get lost

Tripped over a dog in a choke-chain collar.
Traded a smoke for a food stamp dollar.
A weekend away from the cavalcade.

I never really ever had a problem because of leaving.
No one's gonna fool around with us, Angel.
Ours is a ballad of big nothing.You can do what you want to whenever you want to.
There's no one to stop you. It doesn't mean a thing.
Big nothing.

Smoking Camels. Picking lemons.
We don't belong here. Let's get lost.

Drink up baby, stay up all night.
Look at the stars.
Keep things we forgot.

Let's get lost.

for peets sake

Peet Terwilliger married Hedder Hoy on the 5th of August in 1999. You can probably guess what the theme for the reception was as both favored Prince at the time. Hedder wore a purple dress and Peet a purple velvet jacket and frilly shirt. Their spotlight slow dance was to Purple Rain and they left in Hedder's Uncle's van dedicated to Prince.

They drove pell mell into Wyoming, with reservations at the Buffalo Bill Super 8 in Cody. They were headed for the Bighorns and then on to Yellowstone. But something happened. The trip was cut short. Prince had left his record company and changed his name to The Artist. Peet was dissappointed, Hedder was intrigued. The Artist was traveling too, hitting swanky bars, playing country tunes at VFW's and Shriner events. He was in Rock River at Bill's Casino and Slots that Tuesday.

This was Hedder's chance. Catch The Artist while he's down, nurture and revive his musical soul. Drop Peet and move on. Right after the bond had been certified in the Lutheran tradition.

Peet could sense the tension. He couldn't keep his mind on the road. He couldn't stop wondering. At mile marker 116, Peet pulled the van over and ripped the neon guitar from the purple carpet wall of the customized van. He tossed the vintage 8 tracks onto the road. He pulled Hedder from the van. And gave her an ultimatum. I'm your Prince, he shouted, big rigs zooming past, smell of diesel and asphalt in the air. I'm will die for 4 u, he screamed, paraphrasing the title of another Prince hit.

Ms. Hedder laughed. A squeaky little erp of a laugh but just enough to set Peet off. Peet swung the neon guitar over her head and into the dry grassland adjacent. Another sqeak. Peet lost it. He stripped off his purple velvet jacket and frilly shirt and bolted into the roadway.

A Sweedish Hanna couldn't stop in time. The length of time to stop an eighteen wheeler is 40% greater than that of an automobile.  Depending on the weight of their load,  whether they are bobtailing,  road conditions,  and other factors.  To be sure,  it takes a much greater time to stop than an automobile… period. Pete met his fate on that lonesome Wyoming highway.

Asked later, Hedder refused to answer any questions and sat silently hurting. 
For Peet's sake. 

country dick

How did I miss his death? I met Country Dick Montana in Vermilion, SD in the vast Lakota Feeding Trough at the University of South Dakota Student Center we called LaChoka. The food was that bad.
Ol' Country passed in 1995 and I missed it. I must've been high.

cheese

Velveeta Linklater grew up in my town. She was genuine. Her toes pointed inward and she'd stand arms akimbo, admonishing us boys in PE class.
Her nose was chiseled to a fine point and when it pointed at you, you feared the worst. On that day when it came to my attention, we were practicing "tumbling". A vague word for cruel and inhumane punishment. Enforced with a relentless zeal by Velveeta, a failed high school gymnast.
We were directed to line up and run, one by one, jumping on a "mini" trampoline, to execute a "forward flip" and land on a mat two inches thick. I was not a natural. I usually landed on my ass. Velveeta had the solution. It seems I was closing my eyes (as most would when facing impending doom), and thus, according to Velveeta, losing my "gravity compass". This seemed sensible if incomprehensible and I was determined to give it a try.
I did. And the fear generated by the world upside down sent me sprawling to the floor, missing the mat entirely. Nonetheless, I gamely got up and limped to the back of the line dreading what was to come next.
But I got lucky. The exercise was suspended. Velveeta stood to the side, a veritable gusher of blood and tears. I said 'jeez, what happened'. My classmate Marli said, 'you went totally out of control and accidentally kicked her in the face, you didn't mean to, but it was really funny'.
I have to admit I laughed a little inside, a little payback for the unreasonable imposition of emotional and physical distress. And I thought, why would I need forward flipping skills in adult life? If I was going to make the circus a career maybe, but even then I'd probably be detailed to sell corn dogs, dill pickles and cotton candy.
Velveeta didn't like me much after that errant flailing kick but, heck, it WAS her idea.

she writes too

Ninjabeth writes well. Very well.
How does it happen, this ability to communicate so much with so few words? To establish a compelling grouping of words that blow up into a simple, fantastic melding of mind and universe? Why can some do this while others fall short?
Heck if I know, but I highly recommend her. Her writing is real. You will love it. I do.

sara

Sara likes Bob Dylan. A lot. So do I. Sara's from Oklahoma. I've never been there. She makes it seem really cool though. It must be. She's there. By way of San Francisco or the east coast, I can't remember which.
Bob just announced the US leg of his tour. One stop was Sturgis, ND. Yeah ND, not SD. Either way I might go. He's worth a road trip. Especially if Sara comes along.

but if you try sometime

You can get what you need. Like if you want a pony, maybe settle for a goat.
Bigfoot always wanted solitude, he got infamy. He wanted a splinter-cat, he got bitten and scratched. He wanted a bathtub, he got a pond. He wanted a friend, he got me. He wanted an iPad, he got an iPod Touch.
I asked him. Are you bitter? He said no. I got what I need.

new post

Sometimes when you ain't really got nothin' new to say, you just hit "new post" and wait for the flow. Sometimes it don't show up on time so you freelance. You make it up.
Maybe you ran out of cigarettes and the tank in your truck is gettin' low. Maybe your cat gives you a look, sayin' what's up Pa. Maybe your CD player broke and your girlfiend noticed. Doesn't want to see you no more. You think about takin' up rodeo again, but you're too old for that business. Gave your riggin' away a long time ago when you couldn't get a PRCA invite. Your rope is loose and your saddle's worn. It hurts a bit. The busted neck in Bell Fourche, collarbone in Payson. Losing your best friend in Layton. Missing the cut in Pueblo. Those good rides in McLaughlin, Sundance and Lame Deer come to nothin'. A few eighties don't make a career.
But a cowboy has a job to do when he gets thrown, when his rope slips, his horse stumbles through the gate. He get's up, finds his hat, dusts it off, smiles and keeps on cowboyin'. Guess I'll do the same. Washte kolas.

closing time

When the clock turned, I was suddenly one year older. Like magic. A whole year of work and perilous danger subsumed by a number. In an instant. It doesn't seem right. It took a whole year to get here. Now that year is history.
Funny. I still have the same friends and a few more new friends. Some re-connections with friends thought to be lost but really just out there wondering what the hell I'd been up to.
Yes. I've become lame. I drive carefully, keep the speed down, let others cut in front and refrain from using my cell phone while driving and at the gas station because the sign says I shouldn't. I eat more dark green vegetables. Wash the dishes by hand. Buy recycled paper products even if they cost more and they always do. I sold my guns and quit hunting and shooting animals except with a camera. I provide fresh water and litter for my cat almost daily. He notices and I think he appreciates it but how would I know. I just figure if I was him, I would want someone like me to do the same. His name is Willie. He likes country music just like I do. He's hoboed from Arizona to Minnesota with me.
And I still like punk rock. I'm still a straight-laced prep frat-boy in appearance and action. I voted then, I vote now. I pay taxes. I'm OK with both. I take a vitamin supplement and drink a lot of water. Usually only fruit if I want a sweet snack. But I still love cookies (I'm eating one now), ice cream and cupcakes. Overall, I'm a happy boy. I guess that could be brain damage from my years of excess. They're behind me. I've become more subtle.
I'm old now, but young at heart and in spirit. I wonder if it's because I took the time to make so many friends. Some go back to first grade, some farther. Some are more recent, but bonds build over time. Some quickly, others more slowly, and require careful consideration. Some I've had to let go as our paths diverged. But, that's part of the enjoyable challenge of it all. Like a warm chocolate chip cookie or your Mom's smile when you did the right thing. Or eating spinach. It grows on you and makes you stronger.
Closing time for me is a long way off. I can't get enough of this. Figure I'll stick around for a bit. So, for all of you friends, the bigger and the better and the in-betweens, thank you for carrying me this far. I won't forget you. Ever.

eating soup off the top of your daddy's head

I hadn't heard this phrase before tonight. The explanation was satisfactory but the image remains. Wouldn't the soup simply drain off? If Dad had a bald spot, wouldn't it be worse? A scald. A third degree burn. And a good pot of soup lost.
Like a pick-up game on the playground. You lose so often until you decide to stop losing. You get taller than your Dad. You scrap it out. And when the day comes when you're taller than him, you eat soup off the top of his head. And sink the winning basket.

could you would you

If you could I know it would be so good. The Magnolias have re-united but when will the Johnson brothers bring Run Westy Run back to life. We all wait patiently. Never missed a show. Usually a packed First Ave main room gig. Sometimes in the Entry for old times sake. Hanging from the rafters. Stocking cap studded with burning incense. You would have had to have been there to get the full picture.
Then there was the Iffy experiment. That was a chick magnet. Saw them at the 400. My cell was in my pocket. It redialed my girlfriend Mara at home. She heard us discuss the merits of various hot babes. Back in the car after, phone still broadcasting, she heard me tell my buddies that she was hotter than any chick there that night. Close call. Turned out well though. Still love my cutie from Grand Forks.

almost

Almost old. Almost. I'm fighting it. But if by chance I do get older, I'll remember all the special people in my life. There are so many.
I spend my days playing a game I call jump, jump, jump climb. I get tied up in it.  Then I hear from a dear friend I haven't heard from in years. Her smile is beautiful and it makes me happy. And the years fall away. Tomorrow, I think I'll play in a sandbox. Ride a swing. Take the neighbor kids for ice-cream. There's more than one way to jump, jump, jump, climb.

garrett bryan holly bryan

Garret Bryan Holly Bryan was poorly named. As a result, he suffered horribly at the hands of the grade school bullies and the assembled crowd. Chased, caught, wrestled to the ground for an Indian haircut, the turkey-peck or the dreaded "snake-bite", he'd take his punishment and shuffle off. Just a little tore up.
But then Garret Bryan Holly Bryan met Marli Feller Feller Marli. The prettiest girl in third grade. He carried her books home after school. He held her hand.
The bullies wouldn't stand for this behavior and so upped the ante on Garret Bryan Holly Bryan. But he remained true to Marli Feller Feller Marli. Sixteen years later, he married her. She kept her maiden name, so now she's Mrs. Garret Bryan Holly Bryan Marli Feller Feller Marli. Can't wait til they have kids!

the brown acid

When I was little, I spent some time on my Uncle's dairy farm in western South Dakota. My brother was working as a farmhand for him that summer and my Uncle and Aunt were such nice people that it was a very popular place to be. Cousins and neighbor kids scrambled over fences and chased the chickens, avoiding the evil flock of geese. My Uncle grew apples, cherries and plums. My Aunt tended a massive garden of tomatoes, cucumbers and corn.
While visiting, I used the second bed in my brother's room. He had a record player and he would play records at night. A favorite was an LP of the Woodstock Festival. I remember the guy over the PA saying, "Do not eat the brown acid." Apparently it was bad acid. It was years before I even knew what he meant or what "acid" was for that matter. I thought, who would eat acid anyway? Wouldn't it hurt or at least burn a little?
Well, yesterday, I think I ate some brown acid. I left some delivery pizza out overnight then put it in the fridge in the morning. When I got home from work, pooped after a long day, I microwaved a slice and headed for bed. Six hours later, it was a jailbreak. The pizza wanted out and it got it's way. More than once. Several times in fact. It fought the Pepto Bismal, and won. It even refused water. Eventually, it escaped entirely. I emerged from a virtual fugue state about 4:00 PM. A day lost to the brown acid. Don't eat it.

skin of my teeth

When you get down to the skin of your teeth you look carefully for the next crack in the sidewalk. You pretend you can see it coming. You don't turn the lights on even when you're in the dark. So you trip, you fall, again.
Get back up. Hope. Cause hope won't weigh you down. Be a dreamer. Dream and sleep. You might fall, but you will wake.

buttehead

Dude. I hope you don't mind but I'm posting this because you write so damn well and I am Impressed. Plus, in reviewing your profile I saw influences ranging from the Tao Te Ching to Thunderheart and Pow Wow Highway. And darn it if you don't hunt and fish too. Bet you're not unfamiliar with an occasional beer on Sunday during football. Party on Buttehead, you rock.

So folks, get your butt over to Buttehead.

http://buttehead.blogspot.com/

The last Buttehead post follows. Awesome.

 

 

That Midlife Thing

I guess this is that time in life. Back when Dad was acting pretty strange after their divorce, I remember asking Grandpa if he went through some sort of midlife crisis, he just said, "Hell, I never had the time!"

I'm thinking it has to do with changing your mindset. When I was younger, it was always a matter of what I was going to do some day, what my potential was, what paths I would take? Now I begin to realize that some potential doors are closing, that I do not and will not possess certain traits I admire, and there is only a finite amount of time to accomplish a seemingly infinite amount of dreams and goals.

I also think that men tend to pine for what they perceive they have missed out on. I think this is why many family men buy the Corvette or run off with the secretary, looking for that adventure they didn't have living the culdesac lifestyle. I think it's why guys like me who have climbed the mountains, jumped out of the planes, ran the wild rivers, begin to miss the family that never materialized. What would it have been like to marry that sweet girl years ago, wake up next to her now, and be sending the kids off to college?

Not that there are serious regrets. I've been a lucky bastard. I've had a chance to realize many a goal, been blessed with a great extended family, a few solid friendships, and have worked at a career that has allowed me to be a positive force in many lives. I wondered what it was going to be like to get to this stage in life. In many ways it probably hasn't completely sunk in, and in many ways I'm just damned fortunate to have made it this far.

bdl

I was in Wisconsin today and learned to my surprise that there is such a thing as a BDL. A Bovine Drivers License. Bovines can legally drive in Wisconsin.
I knew that cats were legally licensed in New York. Hence, Toonces, The Driving Cat popularized on SNL. I did not know about bovines in Wisconsin until one backed into me in the parking lot of the Superamerica and dinged my bumper. She mooed loudly and called in a flock of crows (oops, I meant cops). I still have Arizona plates and an Arizona DL so they brought in the drug dog. Two and one half hours later, I am free to go. Apparently it is legal to have chewing gum in your vehicle in Wisconsin because that's all the dog found of interest.
The bovine, on the other hand, will be buying me a new bumper. It's a small ding and I would have let it go, except for the mooing, which annoyed me as much as the crows. Cows and crows in Wisconsin. A wonderful afternoon.

it all comes together

If you make it a priority, work at it, persist at it; it all comes together. You learn to approach with consideration. You learn to give without expectation. And it all comes together. Suddenly, you become rich in spirit and your soul learns to fly.
This is what it's about. This is why we're here. Simple, isn't it?

pancake rabbit hat

I bought a bunny today. It came with a pancake for a hat. I consider that a bargain. I can have the hat for breakfast and the bunny for lunch. Genius! Thinking of buying a franchise. This is big in Japan.