Even as a small child I had reoccurring dreams not of a place or a time, but of a girl. When I was young she was a little blond girl usually in flowing dresses and sometimes floating through the air. More often than not the settings of the dreams when I was young were that of maybe an ancient Rome or Greece. there was a fountain with a great bearded man atop, sometimes the fountain was covered in ivy sometimes it was clean marble. the ground was always covered with clouds, white puffy ones, and she would come floating into the dream. We would play around the fountain for a while and I would fade away into conscientiousness. I would always get this particular feeling when she was around, it's a little hard to explain. I always felt like she had been there from the beginning, everything was the way it was suppose to be.
As I grew older she grew older, the setting would change but she remained a consistent apparition. In the dreams we went through elementary school and high school together. I can remember dreaming about everyday experiences with her, I would see her in the school office, walking down the hallway, or I would be checking her out in her overalls and crop top or sometimes wearing pretty sun dresses. Always with the blond hair, and always looking just as beautiful as always and accompanied by the same feeling.
About three years ago while dating the girl that was in my life at the time, I had sort of a prophetic dream. In the dream I had to break up with my girl friend, then there would be another mystery girl come in my life who I would have a great relationship with but I would have to leave her as well, and once I left her I would meet a college student going to school to study law and that would be the blond girl from my dreams, she was wearing a black suit skirt and her blond hair was straightened and hanging down in front of her shoulders, and she was carrying a small black leather brief case, that's the point I faded away into conscientiousness. I had woke up with a mission from my subconscious.
The last dream I had with her was about 3 weeks ago as of right now. I met her at some sort of reunion or party something of the such. We had just met and she ask me if I would walk her to the place where she was staying. I told her I could drive us there and she told me she would rather walk on such a beautiful night. I could feel her thirst for life, she was a breath of fresh air. We started over the hill and crossed a small bridge where we stopped and looked into the moon light reflecting off the water. We were doing the flirty thing but it had a more aged feeling too it, kind of like holding hands with a quick glace and a warm smile you know its a flirt and she knows its a flirt and it just feels nice... We kept walking and we make it to this small house where she had a couple pets and for some reason I feel like Daisy (my blue healer) is already there. We sit around, me holding her as we talk long into the night. The living room fades away into a lying in the warm morning sun she's asleep on my chest and I'm still holding her tight and I can feel a warm half cocked grin on my face. I kind of feel like Brian Eno's - An Ending might have some how been playing at the end of the dream but I could have been listening to it in my sleep... This is when I again fade away into conscientiousness
I don't talk about this a lot in person because most people think you're bat shit crazy when you say something to the effect that you might have a legit dream girl.
Thursday
Monday
Women of The 90's
today I miss the 90's... More specifically I miss the women of the 90's. A time when women looked better and had much better attitudes. No texting, no email, no electronic bullshit, sometime after 1999 we lost the natural order of things in the world. Personally if I could hop in a time machine and go back and get myself a 90's girl I would, no questions ask. I mean for god sakes if there is a women prettier than Gillian Anderson (Scully) from the X-Files I haven't saw her yet.
Not gonna lie I do have a thing for red heads but that's besides the point just look at all that 90's greatness.
Then there is Teri Hatcher (Lois Lane from Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman) she had her cute little 90's doo going on. Whats not to love about Teri Hatcher?
Even Melissa Joan Hart (Sabrina, the Teenage Witch) had a little something going on. also the cleavage doesn't hurt, that's why she made this line up to be honest.
All I'm saying is why can't we have those kind of women back??? A little more advanced than the big haired 80's but a little less sophisticated that the girls of the 2000's. It was just about perfect. Not every girl you were attracted to was on some kind of weird ass drug, they were more of the alcohol crowd who stayed up all night on the weekend and could still function though the week. They were the girls who could set back and enjoy a little make out session in a parking lot, or on a couch, nothing really had to be over the top or intense every waking moment. They held jobs and had their light colored blue jeans and flannel over shirts with cute little tank tops under them. What the fuck happen to us as human beings? We use to be cool...
 |
| Scully |
Not gonna lie I do have a thing for red heads but that's besides the point just look at all that 90's greatness.
Then there is Teri Hatcher (Lois Lane from Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman) she had her cute little 90's doo going on. Whats not to love about Teri Hatcher?
 |
| Lois Lane |
 |
| Sabrina |
Wednesday
Her
I was driving home a few days ago and the song "At Last - Etta James" came on my radio. Time slowed, I went into a daze, barely conscience of the world around me, I was on autopilot. My mind was two years in the past and she was there.
She had raven black hair, and feral eyes. She had a taste for class and cocaine, it scared me but naturally I was attracted to it, kind of like a moth to the flames. She was Paris, Tijuana, and Moscow all wrapped into one, she was the red light district, she was the alley you shouldn't walk down alone. She was the hungry soul in need of life. Her voice was filled with an intense longing for adventure anywhere she could find it. The world couldn't offer her enough. She was the most dangerous thing I had ever encountered, and I wanted to be a part of the danger.
She was in and out of my life like a thief in the night, most likely for the best. Now she's a ghost with the occasional message from wherever she maybe now. I've had a reoccurring day dream about her and myself riding around in this 1974 Cadillac Eldorado convertible with the top down, cruising extremely slow, she's wearing her big ass bug eye looking white trimmed sun glasses with some sort of 60's style ladies scarf around her head, she looks at me wearing my gold rimmed aviators we smile at one another listening to "At Last" (her favorite song) not giving a fuck about anything.
Three minutes and two seconds later I'm back in my pick up truck letting Al Green pick up the pieces, driving into a late winter rain storm with no particular hopes or dreams.
She had raven black hair, and feral eyes. She had a taste for class and cocaine, it scared me but naturally I was attracted to it, kind of like a moth to the flames. She was Paris, Tijuana, and Moscow all wrapped into one, she was the red light district, she was the alley you shouldn't walk down alone. She was the hungry soul in need of life. Her voice was filled with an intense longing for adventure anywhere she could find it. The world couldn't offer her enough. She was the most dangerous thing I had ever encountered, and I wanted to be a part of the danger.
She was in and out of my life like a thief in the night, most likely for the best. Now she's a ghost with the occasional message from wherever she maybe now. I've had a reoccurring day dream about her and myself riding around in this 1974 Cadillac Eldorado convertible with the top down, cruising extremely slow, she's wearing her big ass bug eye looking white trimmed sun glasses with some sort of 60's style ladies scarf around her head, she looks at me wearing my gold rimmed aviators we smile at one another listening to "At Last" (her favorite song) not giving a fuck about anything.
Three minutes and two seconds later I'm back in my pick up truck letting Al Green pick up the pieces, driving into a late winter rain storm with no particular hopes or dreams.
Monday
Saint Paddy's 2014
We drove to Dillard’s and my buddy bought a green shirt. I bought a blue one with a white collar because I was curious about that kind of thing. The dude checking me out wasn't having any of my shit, trying to tell a joke, no response, tried to be friendly, no response, shut the fuck up, "now you have a safe day sir".
we're back at his place and he ask me to help clean, so I kind of help for a few minutes and then I pretty much droped everything to talk to his roommates girlfriend. I had never really had a conversation with her. but we seemed to chat it up while she was lying there in bed. She was a very pleasant person. I walked away after a bit and passed out...
Many hours later… I awoke to the heavenly smell of marinated steak and roasted potatoes, having only eaten a small sandwich the night before I was ravenous. I ate like enough for 6 people, and then I feel like I took another nap and got ready maybe??? I don't know...
I'm walking down the stairs and this girl jumps because I didn't know I was there and that’s when I first meet Deuce Knuckles, the pretty Cuban girl who likes it two knuckles deep, or so they say. Deuce Knuckles and her cousin were already there I came down looking like a million bucks as usual, and soon after Rachel and her dude got there. I started pounding a new drink I invented/stole called the lucky leprechaun.
Lucky leprechaun
White rum
Midori
Mint bitters
Pineapple juice
To say the least it was pretty amazing in the spirit of saint paddy himself.
We drank a few at the house and sit on the porch for a while like it was summer of something I'm sure the alcohol knocked it up like an extra 5 degrees. This small child kept riding his scooter back and forth through the street and I kept calling him Opie and I'm guessing he didn't like that because he started yelling his name whatever it was, to me he was Opie…
We we're about to call a taxi for the bar when one of the ladies spoke up and said "I can drive" which are magical words to any drunk especially on saint Patrick’s day. I have Deuce Knuckles put my seat belt on and we're chatting it up in the back seat, and for the record she was very sweet. We make it to Molly Malone’s and I immediately take off and go do my thing. I met Sarah Jessica Parker within 10 minutes of being there, she takes a picture with me gives me a kiss and introduces me to her sister. Again I'm on the move I meet a ton of people on my rotation around the bar. Met another guy that looked like John Coffee and another guy from Morocco bought me a drink for some reason. I even had my very own drink girl on the second floor; she would search me out to take my drink order of course I guess that is her job. I even ended up on the news Saturday night. My buddy ask me if I got any phone numbers on my rounds around the bar and I said nope, and he ask me what the point was, and I really didn't know. He summed it up best when he said I was like a honey bee with no hive. But it was a great time.
We make it back to the house at like 3am and my buddy's roommate’s girlfriend ask me if I wanted a grilled cheese sandwich and in a drunken stopper I nod and go "uh huh" and she fixes the best cheese sandwich I've ever had in my life, I'm one bite in when she ask me if I wanted ketchup and I look at her and say "I've never tried it like that before" she puts some ketchup on my plate. IT…WAS…HEAVENLY to say the least. The rest of the night is kind of a blur.
I wake up at 8:30 still a little intoxicated and I have 40 snap chats from one girl who is begging me to come over and see her the whole time I'm there. I'm thinking I'd like to but I need to sober up, but then I get the news there is a snow storm on the way so I have to roll out as soon as I wake up for the second time. she keeps sending me these snap chats with blank screens and saying how pissed off she is at me and I'm thinking:
#1 we're not dating
#2 send me a nip pic and I'm more likely to stop by…
So I drive home and as soon as my face hits my couch I'm out for a good 15 hours of sleep to bring to an end the great saint paddy's celebration of 2014.
P.S.
Also if you have a linger pic of me from any of the saint paddy’s celebrations over the years please let me see… I'm the Zach Galifianakis look alike in a white suit coat and a badge hanging around my neck that says "show me them titties".
we're back at his place and he ask me to help clean, so I kind of help for a few minutes and then I pretty much droped everything to talk to his roommates girlfriend. I had never really had a conversation with her. but we seemed to chat it up while she was lying there in bed. She was a very pleasant person. I walked away after a bit and passed out...
Many hours later… I awoke to the heavenly smell of marinated steak and roasted potatoes, having only eaten a small sandwich the night before I was ravenous. I ate like enough for 6 people, and then I feel like I took another nap and got ready maybe??? I don't know...
I'm walking down the stairs and this girl jumps because I didn't know I was there and that’s when I first meet Deuce Knuckles, the pretty Cuban girl who likes it two knuckles deep, or so they say. Deuce Knuckles and her cousin were already there I came down looking like a million bucks as usual, and soon after Rachel and her dude got there. I started pounding a new drink I invented/stole called the lucky leprechaun.
Lucky leprechaun
White rum
Midori
Mint bitters
Pineapple juice
To say the least it was pretty amazing in the spirit of saint paddy himself.
We drank a few at the house and sit on the porch for a while like it was summer of something I'm sure the alcohol knocked it up like an extra 5 degrees. This small child kept riding his scooter back and forth through the street and I kept calling him Opie and I'm guessing he didn't like that because he started yelling his name whatever it was, to me he was Opie…
We we're about to call a taxi for the bar when one of the ladies spoke up and said "I can drive" which are magical words to any drunk especially on saint Patrick’s day. I have Deuce Knuckles put my seat belt on and we're chatting it up in the back seat, and for the record she was very sweet. We make it to Molly Malone’s and I immediately take off and go do my thing. I met Sarah Jessica Parker within 10 minutes of being there, she takes a picture with me gives me a kiss and introduces me to her sister. Again I'm on the move I meet a ton of people on my rotation around the bar. Met another guy that looked like John Coffee and another guy from Morocco bought me a drink for some reason. I even had my very own drink girl on the second floor; she would search me out to take my drink order of course I guess that is her job. I even ended up on the news Saturday night. My buddy ask me if I got any phone numbers on my rounds around the bar and I said nope, and he ask me what the point was, and I really didn't know. He summed it up best when he said I was like a honey bee with no hive. But it was a great time.
We make it back to the house at like 3am and my buddy's roommate’s girlfriend ask me if I wanted a grilled cheese sandwich and in a drunken stopper I nod and go "uh huh" and she fixes the best cheese sandwich I've ever had in my life, I'm one bite in when she ask me if I wanted ketchup and I look at her and say "I've never tried it like that before" she puts some ketchup on my plate. IT…WAS…HEAVENLY to say the least. The rest of the night is kind of a blur.
I wake up at 8:30 still a little intoxicated and I have 40 snap chats from one girl who is begging me to come over and see her the whole time I'm there. I'm thinking I'd like to but I need to sober up, but then I get the news there is a snow storm on the way so I have to roll out as soon as I wake up for the second time. she keeps sending me these snap chats with blank screens and saying how pissed off she is at me and I'm thinking:
#1 we're not dating
#2 send me a nip pic and I'm more likely to stop by…
So I drive home and as soon as my face hits my couch I'm out for a good 15 hours of sleep to bring to an end the great saint paddy's celebration of 2014.
P.S.
Also if you have a linger pic of me from any of the saint paddy’s celebrations over the years please let me see… I'm the Zach Galifianakis look alike in a white suit coat and a badge hanging around my neck that says "show me them titties".
Friday
Sleep Deprivation
Today I am sleep deprived... my conscientiousness is cloudy, everything has a non-existent cast of gray to it. My hearing is muffled by the sleep deprivation bucket that I'm crowned with. The chew toy raccoon that's sitting on my desk keeps mocking me in his wide black eyed fashion. Blinks turn into micro naps as cherubs whisper the Sandman's plans into my hypothalamus while my medulla oblongata isn't giving a fuck. My Id and Ego are on the prowl and demanding satisfaction. All the while Schlomo Freud is having his way with my inner ear. Bob Dylan keeps yelling "Lay, Lady, Lay" riding a horse made of velvet fire through the tampon aisle at The Walmart, passing out smile stickers to underprivileged meth addicts buying cough syrup.
Wait... What?
Wait... What?
Thursday
Life Liberty and The Pursuit of a Boat...
So, I was watching Quantum of Solace the other day and there
was a boat chase in a third world country. Bond hops this boat that looks like
a real piece of crap and does his Bond-esk thing. Then I realized if I lived in
a third world island nation I would have a boat, because everyone has a fucking
boat. I'm an American and I can't afford a boat… To me there’s something wrong
with that picture any poor dude in any country can afford a boat but not in
America. It took me seven years of work to afford a cheap motorcycle, and god
forbid if I needed a new vehicle. Also by the world new I mean slightly
pre-owned many times by many previous owners and preferable not dented all to
shit.
I keep picturing myself living in a smallish shack in the
little known Greek island Icaria. I would eat pasta which is cheap even in America;
maybe mix it with a little fresh sea food that I would catch. I would be a
picture of health because I wouldn't be sitting here feeling my ass grow in my
work chair all day. My dog would keep me company along with the occasional
Greek girl who wondered by. I wouldn't need a car, I could wonder place to
place on foot or by bicycle. I could make a small income by selling Frisbees or
"Traditional Greek Throwing Disk" to tourist, or maybe take a nice portrait
of visitors for a small fee. There would be no need to be up early other than
the occasional sunrise, because most shops on this island don't open until
after noon and don't close until the early morning hours. I would be tan
because that's what happens when I say outside. I would also own a damn boat...
At this moment I'm about 90% sure the old school American
dream is dead to me. When I hear people saying you better work so you can
retire, it makes me physically sick. What I hear is "you better work so
you can afford to smile a few years before you die." I feel like we've
been fed the biggest crock of shit for the longest time. Material things don't
bring you happiness it's what you do with the time you have that bring your
happiness. Would I like a boat? Sure I would love a boat but is it going to
determine if I smile today, I'm just saying I could smile on water if I had a
boat. It just doesn't make sense to me to work your whole life for peanuts just
so you can have a few pleasurable years at the end when you’re in bad health
from spending your life sitting in a chair. Personally I'd rather go do things
now and spend the later years in chair thinking about the good times I had in
youth.
A good life and happiness is free, that’s one thing they've
not been able to put a price on yet, although they'll lie and say that there is
a price on it. If more people would fight for their happiness then maybe the
world wouldn't be such a damn depressing place. Every day I read a thousand
status updates about bullshit on Facebook "no one will talk to me"
"my legs hurt" "I just had a shitty meal" "I'm so
lonely" "I'm so bored", Change it. It's that simple if you don't
enjoy it change it. Then there's the "I can't" and to that I say sure
you can. America use to be an English colony for god sake and we got tired of King
George’s shit and we changed it. You eat shitty food? Cut your losses and eat
better next time. You’re lonely? Find a crew, no matter how shitty you think
you are there are always someone looking for a friend.
If you spent more time enjoying life then maybe you would
feel happier and live a longer and more pleasurable existence. It also wouldn't
hurt to live and let die, don't go around dwelling on some bullshit that's
going to be forgotten in a few hours anyway drop it for your happiness. I've
personally been saying "enjoy life lady/dude" depending who I’m
talking to every time I walk away, and when you first say it to someone they
kind of laugh and I’m sure they think well that's kind of weird, but they get
use to it. Maybe it wouldn't hurt you folks to say something like that every
now and then.
Well… Enjoy life my people…
Monday
Death in Appalachia
My great great uncle passed away last week.
Saturday:
Dad shows up at my house and talks me into eating a buffet at Golden Corral. Not my thing but it was my grandmothers 67th birthday so I decided sure why not. It was a fairly quite ride to eat considering how my family is usually chatting it up about something, other than dad constantly saying we need to get to the funeral home no one said much to each other. We ate and my grandmothers keep saying it was the best birthday dinner she ever had. After eating dad was driving like a mad man to get to the funeral home that was 50 miles from where we ate. I'm not sure if everyone was lethargic or what but the only audible sound was coming from the tires pulling along the worn-out asphalt.
We arrived and everyone was all smiles as we walked into his visitation and none of my family knew who I was. I guess I've changed that much in the last few years. It was for the most part entertaining to see what a cold group of people they could be to an "outsider". It was a lot like that movie Next Of Kin, except everyone was whispering "who is that guy?” If you've ever noticed there is a particular lay out to a country person's visitation:
Parking lot/hallway: anything goes; any topic to converse about nothing is untouchable.
Coffee/smoking room: Again for the most part goes, except the topic has to be late 80's or earlier in history.
The visitation room 10ft or more from the body: light conversation, but it has to start about the deceased, volume of speech is kept low, and small chuckles are permitted.
The Visitation room 10ft or closer: whisper or don't say anything all, look at the flowers, look at the deceased for a minimum of 45 seconds, then move back to 10+ft, and make sure you say something about how natural they look.
Format for leaving: If you're related you stay a couple hours, if you’re not you stay at least 30 minutes.
After I reintroduced myself to my extended family and let my mom/dad explain what happen to me the last few years everyone was much friendlier but still keeping their distance. I kept looking at my great great aunt and it was breaking my heart because she reminded me so much of my great grandmother, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't starting to tear up a little. we made our way around the different sections of the funeral home, talked to people I hadn’t saw in year, in some cases never saw in my life. As we were leaving we passed the coffee/smoke room and stayed in there for about another hour talking about the 70's and how much tobacco they use to plant.
We drove back though the backwoods going home traveling past my people's home place, and we talked and talked about the history of my grandmothers’ people. Land they owned, crops they planted, kids they had.
It was about 12:30-1am before we got to my parents’ house so I figured as long as I was there I might as well go to the funeral the next day, I laid down on the couch as dad watched shitty movies into the night.
Ever since I was a little kid I use to have dreams after someone close to the family had died. They were always dreams about pastures or someplace around a barn just them in what they would consider a natural habitat. That wasn't the case this night. I kept waking up from terrible dreams about a daemon who feasted on the hearts of the living and the kicker was it looked like my deceased uncle. To say the least it really unnerved me. Daisy seemed to stay a little closer than usual that night but she’s always a great comfort when the bewitching hours are in full swing.
Sunday:
I woke up the next morning to a nice country breakfast of sausage and eggs; we didn't have any biscuits so we had to eat light bread instead. Through the night daylight savings time had sprung forward so we couldn't waste time. We got dressed and went back to the funeral home. As we walked in this time everything was much more somber than the night before everyone was down to a whisper and tears where being soaked up by sweaters and work coats that had that sweet musty barn/hay smell to them. We took our seats and the funeral started. Some of the more musically inclined family members started to sing gospel hymns it was kind of eerie in a way. Another family member had written a song just for him, and to my surprise sounded like a legit country song it was very impressive actually. The first preacher got up and told about my uncle's life how many children how many grandchildren pretty much the fun facts. The next preacher got up and preached about how we never know when we're going out of this world so we better find god now. As the service ended we had the walk by of the casket, as the room emptied the crying got progressively louder. we stood outside waiting for them to bring my uncle no one said a word it was complete and udder silence except for a few who were still crying hysterically which made you feel very odd. As we followed the hearse to the cemetery I kept thinking about how his last ride would be though his home place. He was born and died on the same farm, and buried deep in the same ground. The cemetery was high on a hill overlooking his farm, no one said a word other than a few old men, the wind was blowing and the stones looked immortal, some of which were just rocks. I could hear a dog or two off in the distance and someone riding a four-wheeler through the neighboring valley as the Preacher said his last prayer, as they prepared to lower him into the ground. There is no louder silence than that of a burial.
It amazes me that 13 years to the day my uncle's sister (my great grandmother) passed away, it makes me wonder about March 6th maybe if there is some planed destiny or maybe it’s a roll of the dice. No one knows how they’re going to leave I'm sure 13 years ago he wasn't thinking about his death on that day.
Saturday:
Dad shows up at my house and talks me into eating a buffet at Golden Corral. Not my thing but it was my grandmothers 67th birthday so I decided sure why not. It was a fairly quite ride to eat considering how my family is usually chatting it up about something, other than dad constantly saying we need to get to the funeral home no one said much to each other. We ate and my grandmothers keep saying it was the best birthday dinner she ever had. After eating dad was driving like a mad man to get to the funeral home that was 50 miles from where we ate. I'm not sure if everyone was lethargic or what but the only audible sound was coming from the tires pulling along the worn-out asphalt.
We arrived and everyone was all smiles as we walked into his visitation and none of my family knew who I was. I guess I've changed that much in the last few years. It was for the most part entertaining to see what a cold group of people they could be to an "outsider". It was a lot like that movie Next Of Kin, except everyone was whispering "who is that guy?” If you've ever noticed there is a particular lay out to a country person's visitation:
Parking lot/hallway: anything goes; any topic to converse about nothing is untouchable.
Coffee/smoking room: Again for the most part goes, except the topic has to be late 80's or earlier in history.
The visitation room 10ft or more from the body: light conversation, but it has to start about the deceased, volume of speech is kept low, and small chuckles are permitted.
The Visitation room 10ft or closer: whisper or don't say anything all, look at the flowers, look at the deceased for a minimum of 45 seconds, then move back to 10+ft, and make sure you say something about how natural they look.
Format for leaving: If you're related you stay a couple hours, if you’re not you stay at least 30 minutes.
After I reintroduced myself to my extended family and let my mom/dad explain what happen to me the last few years everyone was much friendlier but still keeping their distance. I kept looking at my great great aunt and it was breaking my heart because she reminded me so much of my great grandmother, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't starting to tear up a little. we made our way around the different sections of the funeral home, talked to people I hadn’t saw in year, in some cases never saw in my life. As we were leaving we passed the coffee/smoke room and stayed in there for about another hour talking about the 70's and how much tobacco they use to plant.
We drove back though the backwoods going home traveling past my people's home place, and we talked and talked about the history of my grandmothers’ people. Land they owned, crops they planted, kids they had.
It was about 12:30-1am before we got to my parents’ house so I figured as long as I was there I might as well go to the funeral the next day, I laid down on the couch as dad watched shitty movies into the night.
Ever since I was a little kid I use to have dreams after someone close to the family had died. They were always dreams about pastures or someplace around a barn just them in what they would consider a natural habitat. That wasn't the case this night. I kept waking up from terrible dreams about a daemon who feasted on the hearts of the living and the kicker was it looked like my deceased uncle. To say the least it really unnerved me. Daisy seemed to stay a little closer than usual that night but she’s always a great comfort when the bewitching hours are in full swing.
Sunday:
I woke up the next morning to a nice country breakfast of sausage and eggs; we didn't have any biscuits so we had to eat light bread instead. Through the night daylight savings time had sprung forward so we couldn't waste time. We got dressed and went back to the funeral home. As we walked in this time everything was much more somber than the night before everyone was down to a whisper and tears where being soaked up by sweaters and work coats that had that sweet musty barn/hay smell to them. We took our seats and the funeral started. Some of the more musically inclined family members started to sing gospel hymns it was kind of eerie in a way. Another family member had written a song just for him, and to my surprise sounded like a legit country song it was very impressive actually. The first preacher got up and told about my uncle's life how many children how many grandchildren pretty much the fun facts. The next preacher got up and preached about how we never know when we're going out of this world so we better find god now. As the service ended we had the walk by of the casket, as the room emptied the crying got progressively louder. we stood outside waiting for them to bring my uncle no one said a word it was complete and udder silence except for a few who were still crying hysterically which made you feel very odd. As we followed the hearse to the cemetery I kept thinking about how his last ride would be though his home place. He was born and died on the same farm, and buried deep in the same ground. The cemetery was high on a hill overlooking his farm, no one said a word other than a few old men, the wind was blowing and the stones looked immortal, some of which were just rocks. I could hear a dog or two off in the distance and someone riding a four-wheeler through the neighboring valley as the Preacher said his last prayer, as they prepared to lower him into the ground. There is no louder silence than that of a burial.
It amazes me that 13 years to the day my uncle's sister (my great grandmother) passed away, it makes me wonder about March 6th maybe if there is some planed destiny or maybe it’s a roll of the dice. No one knows how they’re going to leave I'm sure 13 years ago he wasn't thinking about his death on that day.
Friday
Things to Do At 1AM on a Work Night
It never fails I'm dead tired up until about 10pm and in the struggle to not be a grandmother and go to sleep before ten a magical thing happens.
10:01pm: "Well I'm a wake now"
11:01pm: Bored insomnia sets in
12:01pm: Maybe if I lie down sleep will find me soonish
1:00am: sleeps not coming so let’s make the most of it
Things to do at 1am:
Come up with the idea to put some classical music on repeat. Figure out very soon that this is not a good plan because it's too loud / too fast pace / eyes won't stay closed. Next comes the phase of finding better music, you can go through your old play list and soon discover the ear candy you had long forgotten about.
1:15am: Now that you have your groove on you must get a snack, but you tell yourself it's not good to eat at 1:15am. Just this once won't hurt… you roll into the kitchen open the fridge door in your boxers and scratch your ass while debating on the cuisine for your late night pig out.
Beans: no, they make my butt talk...
Leftovers: no, they’re about a day past even thinking about it...
Freezer door opens
Hot pockets: awww yeah, but I better eat two because I'm hungry like a wolf
1:20am: beep beep beep beep beep
1:21am: burn the flesh from your mouth and lips, now you’re really awake. Fucking hot pocket...
1:30am: continue eating your midnight snack and let the deep inter secrets of your life’s ambition come out. You make your way from failed ambitions to late night radio personality.
2:08am: you're still practicing your late night radio host personality voice and you're starting to think you sound pretty good so you keep on going until your mouth is dry. Then you remember you had Ice in the fridge… yes! A cocktail that'll put me to sleep.
2:43am: Still looking at a list of cocktails that you could make, you find one but you have everything but one ingredient… Damn. Well it's too late to drink a cocktail anyway, so you could have a shot… No you go with your usual Green tea and peach whiskey (I like to call it chasing the bird dog).
3:07am: yea a radio host that's the life for me or maybe a sea captain, yea a sea captain I could travel and see the world… from a boat… and smell like fish… Na not my thing.
7:00am: white snake alarm, "what… happen… damn it's Thursday I have to go to work..." brush the booze and hot pocket scar tissue out of your mouth and show up to work like a champion...
10:01pm: "Well I'm a wake now"
11:01pm: Bored insomnia sets in
12:01pm: Maybe if I lie down sleep will find me soonish
1:00am: sleeps not coming so let’s make the most of it
Things to do at 1am:
Come up with the idea to put some classical music on repeat. Figure out very soon that this is not a good plan because it's too loud / too fast pace / eyes won't stay closed. Next comes the phase of finding better music, you can go through your old play list and soon discover the ear candy you had long forgotten about.
1:15am: Now that you have your groove on you must get a snack, but you tell yourself it's not good to eat at 1:15am. Just this once won't hurt… you roll into the kitchen open the fridge door in your boxers and scratch your ass while debating on the cuisine for your late night pig out.
Beans: no, they make my butt talk...
Leftovers: no, they’re about a day past even thinking about it...
Freezer door opens
Hot pockets: awww yeah, but I better eat two because I'm hungry like a wolf
1:20am: beep beep beep beep beep
1:21am: burn the flesh from your mouth and lips, now you’re really awake. Fucking hot pocket...
1:30am: continue eating your midnight snack and let the deep inter secrets of your life’s ambition come out. You make your way from failed ambitions to late night radio personality.
2:08am: you're still practicing your late night radio host personality voice and you're starting to think you sound pretty good so you keep on going until your mouth is dry. Then you remember you had Ice in the fridge… yes! A cocktail that'll put me to sleep.
2:43am: Still looking at a list of cocktails that you could make, you find one but you have everything but one ingredient… Damn. Well it's too late to drink a cocktail anyway, so you could have a shot… No you go with your usual Green tea and peach whiskey (I like to call it chasing the bird dog).
3:07am: yea a radio host that's the life for me or maybe a sea captain, yea a sea captain I could travel and see the world… from a boat… and smell like fish… Na not my thing.
7:00am: white snake alarm, "what… happen… damn it's Thursday I have to go to work..." brush the booze and hot pocket scar tissue out of your mouth and show up to work like a champion...
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