Modest Tribute

The good times are

Exactly what they are.

If we ever thought to trade up to something better.

We both know it would miss.

Better is an allusion.

What we have is what counts.

It is the sum of our decisions.

Our choices.

The things we have said. The things we’ve done.

We have more than we deserve.

We have what we ask for.  

It feels damn good to me. 

Clueless

I've found in life that the yin and yang of things is generally true. So I guess I should expect a spike in the valium every now and then. Honestly, my life is pretty good. I have had a good long vacation. I have  good job lined up(for NEXT month :-). I have good plans for the future. I have a couple of friends that will always have my back. I usually have really good food to put in my stomach. I always sleep next to a beautiful woman. I'm in pretty good shape. I have a decent head on my shoulders.
Sometimes, though, Something tosses me for a complete loop. I should have expected it. I've been feeling really good this week. A two hour conversation with a good friend put a few things straight in my head. I was better than happy. In fact, yesterday, I was practically euphoric. Just on life. It was a good as I had always imagined.
Tonight, my lover is breathing steadily in the rest of slumber, and I'm writing in my blog. At 1am. Drinking beer and typing away. I must confess that there is a bot more delete-and-re-type going on than usual... :-) You're glad you can't see it.
I'm listening to Jack Johnson say that maybe the heart is no place to be singing from at all. Actually, that is what this is. The honest thoughts of a man who has survived what I hope is the worst of my life. It really is from the heart. That is the only reason I have my life. My friends. My lover. I shoot from the heart.
So being clueless for a moment isn't the end of the world. I know that when my pillow has a dent in it, everything will be ok. It's true.
Everything will be OK. 

Friend

I think we all know what the word would have behind it if we looked it up in the dictionary. I also think that "Friend" means something different to every one of us.
I do not lay claim to dozens of people who have legitimately held the title in my life. People who showed up when rock-bottom skinned your knees. People who bought pizza and beer for no real reason at all. Those who were happy you called.
So here's to you, my friends.

May your days satisfy you.
May the sun shine warmly on you.
May your skies be blue.
May beauty find it's way to your heart.
May those you love return it to you many-fold.
May you heart be filled with joy.
I hope to be a better friend tomorrow than I was yesterday.
Fair winds and Following seas, my friend.
Adam

Streams

I rode ~13km today on my bike. 4 or so on the highway. Scary.
Now, listening to Belle and Sebastian, It seems distant.
I wonder about this sometimes.
The way things are perceived.
What is it that makes a long-term impression?
Why do we sometimes remember the most inane things
while some events that we would think should make a bigger impression are so easily forgotten?
It is the subconscience that makes these decisions.
Not our conscious minds.
Otherwise, we would would not spend so much energy clinging to certain images we feel we can't live without.
I've done that. Hanging on to what I thought was important. Trying desperately not to loose it.
Then, I discover that it has been holistically set aside by something my conscious mind would have designated insignificant in the moment.
The reverse is also true.
And it is this that seems to be more the case for me.
Events that I would give anything to be rid of.
Yet they haunt me.
Constantly.
They say that time heals all wounds.
But time is a shoddy healer who ends up doing a patchwork job at best and does little to protect your vulnerabilities to new cuts and bruises.
I can't say that I'm a fan.
There is something to the passing of time though.
We flow.
We become something more than we were.
We get deeper.
We understand the world better.
We learn to heal our own wounds instead depending solely on the unsteady hands of the barely qualified civil war medic called time.
Our values change.
Our beliefs change to. Hopefully for the better.
Most of the time, not.
But I think we evolve during life.
Constantly changing.
How is up to us.
From the mountains to the sea.

That Music

It's been several years for me now. It's hard to think about the music that was so iconic during my teens and early twenties. The music I listened to over and over and over again. Every generation has it. Every person has it.
Maybe it was the Beatles.
Maybe it was the Doors.
I had one friend who claimed Elvis.

For me, it is not so much a group as a playlist.
I'm listening to Wonderwall.
The song before it was Iris.
And before that, Freshmen.
No Rain.
Mr. Brightside.
Jealousy.
Runaway Train.
Foolish Games.
Here With Me.
Don't Look Back in Anger.

There are others. Music that is imprinted on my brain.
Music that has somehow made itself a part of me.

Maybe it's cheesy.
But it's my cheesy.
Listen, and Remember. 

Dark Shower

I've never figured out why I do it.
But I love it.
I turn off all the lights and close the windows.
I close the bathroom door.
No light.
Only Darkness.
I make my way to the shower. I have the motions memorized.
We never think about that. How many things we can do without our eyes.
There is a lot we can do with our eyes closed.
I find the right temperature. Almost scalding in winter. As warm as is comfy in the summer.
No light.
Only darkness.
My mind drifts. I think of nothing.
Nothing comes to mind.
The only sounds are the water hitting my body and falling to the tiles below me.
I lose my bearings.
There is no up or down. Left or right.
The only reference is the steady stream of water pouring from an undefined spot on the wall.
The only sensation is the water flowing over my body.
The shower is not short. Not long.
I dry off in the darkness.
Stillness replacing the steady drone of the shower-head.
I am refreshed.
Whatever has driven me too this is satisfied for the moment.
I slowly open the door and am reborn into the light. 

Pain

It's been years since I've played sports. That is a bit of a cliche, but it's very true.
Let's see... almost four years?
So I'm not accustomed to sports injuries.
Tonight, I got a refresher.

Pain hurts.

That was the point. A teenager decided to plant his knee in my quad while playing basketball.
It's not comfy. I hurt.
But it's nice to be moving again.
My body remembering moves that hav been gathering dust for years.

I'm OK with that. :-)

!!Frak!! this hurts.