the pitter patter of little feet … smacking the wall. Oh Rumbly, nothing under the sun is new, is it?
for 2 years I’ve been amazed that my folks let me live. I didn’t realize what a shit I was – all the time. guess love can blind you, eh?
A saturday in the sun, though – not out in it yet. We have Sarah & Duck, not Superfriends; Daniel Tiger, not Looney Tunes (which one had the sheep dog? I like that one.) He sits after a few feasts and sleeps playing with Boo’s celly tripod – it makes a really good “clack’ – metal brip halfs along a metal spacer threads with the barrels sliding back and forth – like an abacus but for photographers. He’s happy – and really that’s what we pursue.
the irony however is stunning. See last post.
the boy is at the window in the middle room, I’m at the new (latest) desk spot trying to grind through some NOS/CTI classes – failing.
the home is a bit of a shambles.
Boo is off doing … well, something. and I’m very happy for that. I was quite not happy earlier.
How the fuck are you and yours? Good I hope.
I glanced every so briefly at the blog – and honestly I need to understand what I’m trying to do better, more. I can make speaking at myself videos – I do like talking, eh?
[[10:12p+27Oct2019= Sunday eve | something to distract me on YouTube (Linus Tech tips) while I get my data re-oriented from As to Ace … it’s only sounding like a tornado hitting a Highland Games festival, right?]]
I don’t remember her last words to me. Or to anyone, I guess.
I recall fumbled phone calls and the really shitty timing for Blood to step across the street.
I recall the amazing kindness and … emotion of a bar down the street, and the feeling of being gutted the next day. and the next. ad nauseum.
I can look and see – I know / recall taking pictures of my face – what did I look like.
but, that’s me, Eleanor’s son.
I miss you ma.
Don’t think of you as often, but you’re always there, my stable base, my excellent foundation. Boy howdy do I get to ponder how I became who I am vs. the enormous number of folk who weren’t raised as well as I was. Of course you get the most of the credit.
I do have some question re: alt interpretations of who “Scott was” – sadly, not for this timeline, eh?
This timeline is now different.
there were moments in the past – a certain motorcycle ride by my then girl-friend Pam which, at least as I tell the story, had me calling you and apologizing profusely for what I must have put you through.
but nowadays, well, the fears and amazement and realization at what you managed to pull off. Just wow.
Boo holds the mantel of ‘mom’ at least in my current life – she’s doing a great job.
He’s a great kid.
I hope – oh how I hope – he becomes a man whom you’d be proud to be family too. strange feels, strange times, and anniversaries of momentous falling.
Thanks – once more and evermore – for all you gave to me ma. Certainly gives me a fighting chance most days.
tell your loved ones that you love them
hey – I love you. even if we’ve not spoken in too long.
a long time ago, in a town … well, 12 hours away, I either paid good money to sit in a cinema and watch a ‘teen flick’, or perhaps abused a friend’s employee status at the vhs rental store in the mall, to catch a flick starring a certain Blacklist Master and a Man of Iron…
it left a certain indelible impression. It’s currently an option to fish out of the Amazon river …, er platform. Currently I’m watching it stream and think – whoa – also – wow. but mostly … whoa.
I’ve always loved a good story presented in moving pictures. All sorts of … well, dramatic stories – ‘streamed’ via the set-top converter box on the only choice at the time HBO. A six million dollar man who used to be a race car driver but had one last race across the country, a lot of angry Vietnam vets, an interesting intramural borough extreme marathon, stress & joy of college entrance exams & how Porsches do not float well. All sorts of interesting things for a kid with no curfew to speak of to watch. Well, I mean, honestly I was just really enthralled to disappear into interesting stories.
I guess what I’m impressed with is witnessing the beginning of a path, progress that took a few of these fellow lives of the 80s to interesting places.
I’m watching a bicyclist – wrenching on out of whack wheels – huh, didn’t MickeyMatt work on bikes.
“That bike cost $500 dollars” …
huh – three string electric bass. from the house band. Guy’s named Jim I’m pretty sure.
this movie was part of the ‘get to Cali and have a better life’ – funny how some youthful dreams are missed even when opportunity is presented.
“cole brothers circus” poster – cool.
Also – 80s fashion was impressive…
huh – perhaps a drummer who uses only one drumstick?
All sorts of influence and impact from 90 minute fiction. Huh.
wonder what the arc is now. Does a YouTube video make a similar deflection to a wandering soul’s journey?
Does a ‘non-player character’ – say a lovely ’68 Camaro – still leave a universal response programmed into your soul?
I will note that Robert has been amazing since, I guess, the dawn of time. Thanks for sharing your gifts good sir.
… and I just found out that Sandy’s is where Van Hamburger Helper was filmed – connecting Tuff to … better off? One Crazy Summer it must have been to see all these films. Nope, Better off Dead…
“off course size matters, this is the 80s”
“you’re a good man. take it easy on yourself. give yourself a break” – turns out Red’s pop had some great advice to offer a kid dealing with growing up in the 80s.
I draft/scribble/clatter at the keys as my kid grabs a few dozen zzzzz’s between bouts of howling, my cough pretty much done (thus I’m up watching a gem of an 80s movie that no one has seen), Boo overwhelmed by everything, myself finding it all too much, and anyone one thing too much.
October – ‘fighting the darkness that breaks our hearts’ sings a very young Reddington. It’s all quite something I tell ya.
//11:31p+17Oct2019=Thursday eve ||the audio portion of a history class movie (film?) about ‘gunfighters’ who showed up to “protect the settlers from outlaws – they brought a code of honor written in their blood, and the blood of the men they killed. Bat Masterson, Wyatt Earp…”//
My sister sent a wonderful kindness yesterday, and I’m wrapping my mind around the touchstone it represents.
Of the past I’ve left/drag along; of people who made me who I am yet without my permission nor – sadly – my best description of gratitude. at this point in my life the interconnections that are, and the space that is yet to come between me and mine.
Always nice to have an object to focus my thoughts, my soul, my spirit. just a day in so who knows where this will take me. Then again who can tell me where I am? sigh.
Here I am again. Here you are too. Hi. We making it through alright? alright enough?
Podcasts stream into my skull to keep my mind wandering … not sure if that’s what is needed, but I do enjoy the stories being shared. something about a polished, produced ‘thing’ – perhaps it’s the example in concrete that helps me think about pursuing that. Like, what if I managed to have a complete arc of a story idea AND put it out into the world we are currently existing in? What would that look like?
Of course I also think the 1000 pots maxim is probably the better path. So, when I can, I just make this stuff here.
Huh – just noticed there’s a word count on the screen – huh. What word count should I shoot for? Oh the words I can write!
Ok – gonna keep this short – trying to figure out a ‘my week in podcasts: epi a, b, c of 123 show – good, good, amazing!
feel free to let me know about the stories you’re paying attention to.
was an odd day yesterday. first time happenings and what not. found a portal to a person in crisis – or, at least from all appearance someone in need of help. and as much as I strive to be helpful it seems as if I was not effective, though that is not at all surprising. still. I hope that in time everyone finds a comfortable spot to have the time to soak in enough solace as to find joy once more.
in a tad bit of a cryptic vaugbooking, I do think Carmen is close to breaking, sharing her ‘facts’ which include the Q warning that it’s ‘habbening’; a slight dive into her past public social expressions made both me and Boo feel a whole lot of the sads. My action to reach to an adjacent, Shelia, seems to have failed. and of course, her starting point was removed from the history, as if it never happened. she certainly had passion in her postings. if – in fact – I am wrong, and she is at the forefront of what really is going on, then might I offer a hearty ‘Oorah’ to the Jarheads being re-introduced into the warrior lifestyle. C’est la vie.
so from crisis out side my sphere of influence to the crisis within – alas even with a tasty breakky of waffley goodness, cool temps and a certain re-centering of my ‘self’ back into my skull has me, if not actually hopeful, looking forward to finishing up the cough & spit of whatever the hell is in my chest. yuck.
So I type a little, I listen a bit to the words and songs of others, I watch the boy just explode into the tiny toddler king he is – did I mention he’s climbing a bit now? good for his motor skills, bad for Boo and I resting at night. Well, that and his pretty regular awakening & hollering. good thing I like to get up every few hours, that I still have some bit of physical prowess that allows me to lift the wee lad (such dead-weight when he’s have asleep) and place him back in bed. Only about 50% of the time do I have to attempt to rationalize with a sleepy toddler that it’s not time to visit mom. sigh.
How are you? How the fuck did it get to be October? Why was I sick for a month? (looking at you, little buddy) How come all the things seem different, and difficult, all the time? Oh, and how the hell do we get back to the place where we were all going to be alright? I know there’s a place for all that – I’m sure of it.
So we go – and go – and go.
I’m torn between thinking that living in these times is the best possible time – the tensions, the unvarnished truth of the long-entrenched hatred and loathing upon which America has built such an amazing society. How do we take the good and leave the bad? the kiddo will get to know the heights of the amazing people on this planet and the stunning lows of the people who drive the american bus. how to use these examples as guides. All the while realizing that I’m not really the best judge of what’s what. guess we’ll find out, eh?
so we try, once more, to go forward by looking backwards. you would think I’d learn by now.
below are thoughts jotted down months ago. probably need to embrace the fact that drafts are ok – that it’s practice, and it isn’t supposed to be perfect.
the issue is … just practice HAS to be ‘good enough’ because otherwise I’ll have nothing to share. quite the pickle, eh?
this the full moon – 50 years on from ‘going to the Moon’ becoming something we do. I think of my dad, of trips thru dark nights, of boyish fantasies & late 70s broadcast programming – shall we be Buck? or perhaps Appolo? then there was the space garbage scow – Quark I think?
space was full of awesome & fabulousness. or maybe that’s what the boy saw. I wonder what Rumbly will see when he’s 8 years old. guess I’ll have to ask “what’s on your mind, kiddo?’ that and try to be a light in the darkness.
//12:59a+16aug2019=Friday, barely|echoes of the theme of ‘Magnum, P.I.’//
+++from back in May+++
‘What’s on your mind?’ the prompt reads.
A john cleese attributed quote on most effective restriction of creativity is fear of making a mistake.
which, obvs, isn’t an issue with the Wallace clan now is it?!
//1403+13May2019=monday afternoon || the brothers green speak to learning names //
||>- a draft I’ve had in waiting since the end of June. I have no idea what nebulousness I was going to pontificate on, but I will say – even in August – I believe in double rainbows. Just ask the cloud captain!
Oh – and go watch Sara & Duck. It’s sweet, smart, charming.
the power of technology – I’m dictating this entry from my phone while watching my kid play in our middle room.
The deluge from this morning’s storm caused a beautiful waterfall outside the big window, fortunately that means I should go fix the gutters. but this also means I have no excuse for not crafting posts.
I wonder if in my youth I would have not questioned whether a motorcycle oriented podcast crafted from my own so brilliant and witty thoughts would be a success, but now I question anything and everything I can think of possibly attempting. what a shitty stage in my life.
though I didn’t stick around for the techno dance party last night I did look into the celeb DJ’s hit ‘sandstorm‘ – it’s been watched on YouTube 115 million times! fairly impressive – & also yay durhamtown!!
well – this was (like everything else I guess) just a test of the emergency content creation system – had this been a real blog post I would have waxed nostalgic at least once, & probably shared a bit on how I’m feeling amazing watching my kid while feeling terrified & paralyzed watching my kid – perhaps next time eh?
ciao, from durhamtown. the Bull City!
//8:59a+8Jun2019= Sat morn || all the rain, the dishwasher, the happy noises of a 25mo, a wonderful moment, truly//