joegoda: (Default)
Oh, I don't know. I mean, everybody has those days. Today just seemed like one of them. I mean, I woke Shannon up because I have sleep pain, which means I have pain when I sleep and then I moan or groan and stretch to make those pains ease up. So, I woke her up an hour before she had to go to class.

Then, I decided to have a small Jameson's, like you do, in the afternoon. Somehow or other it kicked my ass and I fell asleep in my chair for an hour. That may not sound so bad, but I think I went to sleep in the middle of Shannon complaining to me about some action or other that I did that up set her.

What did I do that upset her? I used the work probably, as in 'there is probably corn and peaches in those sacks'. Now, I knew that the sacks contained corn and peaches. I bought them today. However, I was under the influence at the time my mouth engaged and I was overcome with the Schrodinger function. In other words, I could not see in side the sacks, so they might have contained corn and peaches, or they might not have. Probably they did, because I tend to not believe in the complete mutability of the universes. But they might not, because, you know, irony.

I picked up the sacks and carried them to the kitchen, more to prove to myself that the universe was still solid than anything else. Then, apologizing profusely, as a husband does, I sat in my chair in my office.

So when she started her rant about the use of the word 'probably', I replied, as any good drunken physicist would, 'Obviously, you don't deal with a mutable universe on a daily level', and feel promptly asleep.

I don't know what Shannon thought. She probably kept talking up to the point where I snored. I don't know why women feel they need to use so many words. I got her point before I carried the sacks into the kitchen. that's why I apologized to her. So she would quit talking about it.

But no.... I had to hear the whole "I come home from a long day and all I hear is 'probably'..."etc, write your own script.

Sleeping was a bliss. So, I think I'll do it again. On the sofa. So she can sleep the night through.
joegoda: (Default)
Okay... so here I am, again, on Dreamwidth. I have no idea what's going on over at LJ, but from what I gather the Ruskies have taken over the henhouse and are monitoring all the eggs. Okay, so... umm.

Anyway, there's a Trump in the WhiteHouse. I'm a sit and watch sort of guy. I love to watch bad things happen to bad people, but I feel sorry for this fool. He had no idea what he was getting into and now he has to actually make important decisions. So far, it looks like those decisions are less than shiny, unless a polished turd looks shiny.

So... umm. Yep, that's pretty much it. I'm still alive, still out there. Wanting to go listen to Bill play, wanting to go visit the whole wide world. Missing those folks who have passed on, but not to a crippling level. It's the holiday, thing, yo?
So... who all is still out there. I'll let you in if I know you and you knock.

Then again, if you already are in, and those who are in are the only ones who can read this, then that makes a small house. I like small houses. 10... 20 steps... and you can pretty much reach whatever you need and there's no need to crank the volume up to 11.

so, till next time. Maybe I'll check in more than once every 3 years. Heck I was checking into LJ one a day or 3 times a week, an it was pretty empty. Damn you, FB! All the cool kids are over there.
joegoda: (chethead)
I woke up at 5:58 am. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I bummed around for three hours. Then I sat down to write. I head to work in about an hour and I gotta tell you. I'm tired. Oh yeah.. so I can keep some sort of record, Word says I have 18770 words. Nano says otherwise. Here's the next bit.

the last phase )
joegoda: (chethead)
Painting is done, and I've been gone for what? 3 days? Dammit, I'm behind. Anyway, here's the next bit.

things start to get odd )
joegoda: (chethead)
Okay. So I took a day off to paint. It's still not done, there's some work on one wall of the living room, but I spent a full four hours painting. *Shrug* after that I was sooo tired I moved around the house like a zombie (I hate being a zombie.. they are too popular with the wrong crowd), and went to bed at 9 pm. So, for those who are reading, thanks for waiting. I haven't given up. Here's the latest installment 1,080 words short of the daily 1667 word recommended dosage. I'll make up for it tomorrow and the next day.

And... a bit more )
joegoda: (chethead)
Okay... so I was too tired when I got home last night to write, and yesterday was taken up with painting. So, here it is day 6. Word says I have 9760 word done. Nano.org says this:


some background )
joegoda: (chethead)

Well, Word is telling me that I'm at 7618 words. I might as well agree with it, because what's the point of not agreeing with it. Unless you're the official Nano counter, which says I've typed even MORE. Besides, I'm tired and it's time to go to bed. Here's the latest installment.
John's an odd duck )
joegoda: (chethead)
What with all the painting and waking up early and life, I only got a few thousand more words done. Essentially NANO day 3, even though I had written most the day before on day 2.
So.. here goes day 2 and 3:
it's back here )
joegoda: (chethead)
I've been beating my head against the wall for a few days. Even though I had said, time and time again, that I was going to write this Nano, after having missed the last 3 for reasons that may become clear, and may not. I even said I had a story, and I do, sort of, but it's stuck in my head, floating around like that bit of spider web that seems to never touch down and hovers just out of reach.

I mean, I don't even have a character name in mind. Old names, yes. Old plots, sure. Things I've started on, but those aren't fair and sort of against the nano rules. But the mind, she is blank. Empty of things like fantasy lines and mysteries to be solved and crimes to be punished and pretty damn well most anything else except for what I finally decided to write about. Something incredibly boring to most folks who walk the realm of fantasy and mystery and spies and magic. I'm going to write about real life. I'm going to write about my oldest and dearest friend. I'm going to write about anger. My anger. Not your anger, not my brother's anger, not my wife's anger... my anger.

I'm thinking I've been needing to do this for a long, long time. I'm thinking that it's a cathartic thing, and, who knows... maybe I'll be able to write about the fuzzy bunnies and maybe bring Bags and Pockets and Grizelda back to life. Doubtful, though... See, that's one of the things that makes me angry, and I'm sure it's gonna make an appearance in the book.

I'm pretty sure I'm going to piss folks off. I'm pretty sure that it might even separate friends. Now, I'm going to try to make sure that those living are not make squickish by this. I might change the names to protect those I'm talking about, but they'll know, and more than likely those that know them will know. So, I may make passing reference to them so that the events that affected me will not point to or include them.

I'm going to try, any way...

On second thought... maybe I will write a story. A semi non fictional story about a guy who, one day, just wakes up angry. Angry at the world. Angry at his parents. Angry at the jobs that fired him and the people behind it. Angry at things done and not done.

I think I'll title it "An angry man" and see where it goes. Maybe it'll be funny. Maybe it'll be sad. Maybe it'll be both of those things. Maybe I'll even make it all the way through this Nano and hit the 50,000 word mark. Let me get started and see where it goes.
John wakes up angry )
Well, day one ends with 2544 words under my belt. Let's see what tomorrow brings, shall we?
joegoda: (chethead)
It's been an odd year. Getting used to a new position in a job that I had to take to have a job. It's not a bad job, in fact, it's a good job. I'm having a hard time getting 'into' it. Simplistic, pretty mindless data entry type stuff. A little database diddling, but that's about the level of difficulty I have.

Linda passed on. Sad but not bad. I'm finding it hard to remember a lot of it. Probably shock and grief. I'm not sure I want to travel those paths, as I feel the need to move forward. They'll come on their own anyway, in their own time.

Shannon got fired from her job in B'ville. This saves a hundred mile trip every day, five days a week on the car, with all the expenses that come with that. Down side is we lost the major bread winner, and she's having a much harder time finding work than she thought she would. Also, she's wanting to start up her own business, doing holistic healing in a variety of forms, and has run into the 'I don't know if I'm readies'. She's not. She needs to know more about starting and running a business before she starts and runs. She's a quick study and it'll come soon. When she's ready, it'll happen. I know it's stalling out her search for a job or the appearance of a job for her. The Universe is saying "Make up your mind, and it'll happen." Same for the rest of the world, I reckon.

I've been out of sorts. Still am I figure. Contrary, quick to anger and frustration. Quick to comment on folks and offend.

I was the reason (Okay, so it takes two to tangle - not tango, because I don't dance in a graceful fashion) we lost two close friends. I posted about my views on something and the other party became hurt and angry and decided she had had enough. Regardless of my truth being my truth, it was hurtful, I expect. I didn't have much respect for Kit's feelings or respect for her life choices. Not sure I ever will, as they run counter to what reality, as I see it, is or supports.

Still, I need to change that. We're all here for just a short while. I need to recognize that all folks, regardless of what I personally may think or feel, have opinions and lives that will run counter to mine. They have that absolute right, being individuals and being alive.

Or, maybe I do recognize that right. Maybe I do. Maybe I'm just to vocal about saying what pops into my head, regardless of the consequences. I'll never stick my hand into a rotating fan... again, so why am I so shotgun about saying what I'm thinking? No filters, my friends joke. No inside voice, only an outside voice.

I think that's gotta change. Shannon had a good friend in Kit. Me, not so much and it was never going to happen. Rock meet rock, too much friction, but I did have a good friend in Jack, her husband. He, as he saw fit, felt I had threatened his wife, and being who he is, defended her in a manner the felt right to him. And so, they are no more with Shannon and I. Granted, they are still friends with the folks that are still OUR friends, and this hurts Shannon a bit. She feels a bit betrayed because she doesn't understand why Kit would de-friend her, when *I* was the problem. Maybe Shannon's feelings about that have changed. I know that it still bothers her, though.

I've always been a bit of a bastard. Even at work, where they're having "happiness week", they jokingly made mention of making me the spokesperson. And see, this surprises me. At work, I'm not a negative person. Heck, I didn't think I was a negative person at all until just this year. I've always thought I was a positive person, just with a grumpy exterior.

So, I'm finding the public view of me a bit disturbing. Not a person I like. I don't know if I'd do anything different, though. Take more time before I speak. Don't spread a dissenting view, regardless of how boneheaded and stupid I may think another person's viewpoint is. Regardless of what they speak has no shred of truth to it and this is provable.

Maybe, maybe, it's time to let other folks live with their illusions and disillusions. After all, like I said, it's a short trip from cradle to grave, and as long as their lives make them happy in whatever form of happiness they have... maybe that's enough, and I should leave it the hell alone.

I don't think I can be a disingenuous cheerleader, Rahing on something that I don't feel I should Rah about. I can't get behind a Martin Luther King day or parade, any more than I can get behind President's day or Gay Pride parades. I have nothing against Martin Luther King, I have nothing against the Gay community. I just believe that folks that want to be treated like everybody need to act like everybody else. And the idea that everybody is special means that nobody is special.

Aw well... that's my gripe, and it's not shared by a lot of folks, I reckon, so it's one of those things I'll just put under my hat and bury it in the backyard with the other stuff.

So, short form, I'm 56, my name is Chester Beebe, and I'm a grumpaholic. It's time for a change.
joegoda: (chethead)
Not enough razorblades... not enough alcohol.
joegoda: (chethead)
I'm having to deal with a number of emotional things and I'm not doing very well. Shannon, who does care and love me, doesn't know how to deal with it. Hell, I don't know how to deal with it.

See, it seems to me that there are lots of folks out there sad, hurt, broken, and their world is so much worse than mine. I have a job, I have my health, I have friends nearby that would come running to my aid if I just asked.

I don't ask.

It doesn't seem right or fair for me to be down this far, when I have folks who can read this who don't see enough light to laugh. I can still laugh, and I still find things funny, and there's a buoyancy in my heart that keeps my head above water.

I grieve for my friend Journiey, who is in constant pain, like Linda was, and can't find her way out. I grieve for my friend Heather, who is in a different type of pain and is having a hard time finding her way out. I grieve for my friend Sherry and Sandy, who lost someone who was legendary and strong and big in their hearts and they are having a hard time getting past that too. I grieve for Susi, up in KC, who is in a hole that keeps trying to cave in, and struggle though she might, she just can't seem to find the handhold. I grieve for my friend Tim, because he's struggling and Kit and Jack, who feel that I was so rude that they decided to write Shannon off as a friend. And so, I grieve for Shannon, who has to deal with my grief, and doesn't know what to do. It angers her and so, she tends to avoid me, not knowing that a hug or a kind word or a hold of a hand means more to me right now than it ever would.

I stand on the Nightside Cliff and watch the lights of the city far, far below. The cars move and flash like little fish, shining and twinkling in the starlight. I see the lights in the buildings, and they come on and go off, semaphore like, telling the tales of lovers, and haters, and those inbetweeners.

I stand on the Nightside cliff and I look at the sky, all full of angry gray and swirly blackness. No stars are out, no stars are wanting to associate with me, either.
I am loved, and even so, I am alone. And you know, I feel like such a schmuck for feeling that way.
joegoda: (chethead)
How do you wrap up more than half a life with someone? How to you even begin to talk about the laughter, the tears, the joy, the anger? I haven't touched upon the grief I feel because there just doesn't seem to be time in my life right now. It'll happen, but it's a boxed thing, waiting to be unwrapped when it it.

Linda, my ex wife, died seven days ago. She had been in and out of hospitals for months, and, according to her son, she had been very ill, having screaming fits in the night.

I don't want to think about these things.
Sad things back here )
She got home on July 23rd to rest after her hospital visit. On the morning of July 24th, the hospice nurse went to check in on her. She was gone.

I have a lot of things in me. Anger comes to mind the first - at her son, who didn't take care of her - or maybe he tried but couldn't. I don't know. I'm way, way angry at him, but what good would that do? Sadness is second, or maybe first. It's a big ol' sadness with shaking shoulders and eyes that will never dry. Sometimes it's so muddled up. I do know this: I miss my friend. I miss her a lot.
joegoda: (chethead)
Lessee... We left our hero, Bernie the Cabbie, with a shot up fare who is probably dead, a shot up cab, which isn't quite dead, and some questions. Who was it that shot at him? Who was his mysterious fare, Mister Allen, who is has the Dispatcher Jess nervous and why was Mister Allen going to meet a Mister Dell at 4th and Main. Lots of questions, for sure. But then, the story has just begun.
The story continues )
joegoda: (chethead)
By god, I must be pretty darn powerful to scare some chickenshites away because they are afraid I'll rant about them on LJ. Frankly, I was prepared to ignore it's existence, because this particular does not have any importance in my universe. I figured it would at least be a pleasant encounter, especially if I ignored this particulars meglomanic need to monopolize every location it exists in and claim to have more, faster, better, harder deeper knowledge about pretty much freakin' everything than anyone else. And ignore it I could very well have done. In fact, this post is the response to a dare. So, if you are reading this and find yourself offended, too friggin bad. You may want to ask yourself why you're offended and why you gave that power away to me. Why are you so weak?

On a lighter note, I will be moving, work shift wise, to a start time of 2pm and an end time of 11pm, monday thru friday. While not terribly conducive to any sort of weekday social life (Kit, you don't have to be afraid to attend the Wednesday Pub night! I won't be there!), it might be more conducive to my writing, since I write more creatively once the sun's gone down, the moon's come up and the world is quieter.

So... maybe I'll be able to finish my first full story in three years! Something other than a poor radio script that I no longer claim and a sad musical.

Anyway, here's to change! It happens to all of us, all the time. May yours be gentle, pleasant and deserved.
joegoda: (StoryTeller)
(I'm back)
I unhook the mike from the squawkbox and key into the dispatcher. "Jess, this is Bernie, cab 403. Just picked up my fare at the airport. Destination is Admiral and Sheridan. ETA about 20 minutes, give or take."
the fun begins )
joegoda: (chethead)
Shannon, light of my life, is headed towards a Health Seminar in Austin TX. We got up before the icy rain hit Tulsa and I drove her to the pickup spot in Sand Springs. It's a 10 hour drive, she tells me. She's going to be gone until Monday. I miss her face already.
joegoda: (chethead)
Metro C 707 is the line that picks up at the corner of Admiral and Sheridan. Not far away, but traffic can be a pain. Not that there's that much of it, just that the drivers here aren't very smart. Metro C means that it's a clockwise loop around Metro, which extends from just across the river on the west side of town, up north not quite to Turley, because nobody wants to live, visit or claim Turley, to the Admiral and Sheridan connection and then down south to the 23rd street bridge going west and then starting all over again.

It runs from 6 am to 8 pm. So do all the other buses. I think there are like 8 of them, for the whole city. No buses run after 8 pm, and forget buses on Sunday, because that's not gonna happen. And that is it for the Mass transit in Tulsa. On one hand, it sucks balls if you don't have a car and need to get somewhere. On the other, I drive a cab and I like the money. Life is, as they say, full of balance.

I flip the flag on the meter and start toward the Sheridan and Admiral connection. Five miles as the crow flies and part of it is highway. Actually, I don't flip the flag on the meter, because there is no flag on the meter. It's an electronic counter that I start by pushing a button. It sends a signal to the office and let them keep track of the miles I put on per fare, and thereby letting them know I'm actually working rather than slacking off. I look at it as a good thing. I don't have to do so much paper work, and they do the accounting stuff for me. The fares come out more even too, because they're calculated down to the sixth decimal point or something like that. I like it, but there are a bunch of older geezers (same age as me, but less happy with technology) that quit because of the change from mechanical to eletronic.

It's easier to cheat a mechanical and pocket the money. I never cheated and never will. It's inherently wrong and everybody knows it and everybody who does it eventually gets caught, so why do it at all? And that's the short and long of that. Cabbies who cheat? Good riddance, I say.
(I'll be back)
joegoda: (StoryTeller)
I was 'informed' by those in the know that I needed to put all this down so that in case something happens to me, there will be a record of some sort. What the hell. Why not. Far as I know, if something happens, it won't matter a damn what I did or didn't do. I'll probably be dead. Or not. Maybe I'll get lucky and find myself living in the Dominican (not my choice) under and assumed name (also not my choice).
untitled project )
joegoda: (chethead)
I seem to wake up angry every day now. I mean, there were a few times in my past where I'd wake up grumpy or maybe pissed off from some dream I had but never would I consistently wake up angry. Not that I remember, anyway, which makes it the same thing to me since I slept alone during that period and there is no one to dispute me. So there.
Yeah, it's that long )
so, here's the deal. I wake up angry, and this little bit o'drama is a tiny little (as in very, very small) part of why I wake up angry. I may have lost a good friendship over it. That would be you, sir. I may have lost a less than good friendship over it. That would be the other you, ma'am. More's the pity, but truthfully, it's not worth going all passive aggressive over, which is your bent and mine too. Just let it go. If you want to grow and continue, then be a friend, show up, be friendly. Nobody needs to know any different.

However, I would suggest you consider the path you are on. The world may not necessarily agree with your assessment of it or what it will tolerate. This is not to dissuade you from your path. This is just me saying I've seen nicer, stronger people crushed to smithereens because they didn't know to bend when the wind blew. I fully expect you to ignore me. In fact, I look forward to it.

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