a perched bird, c. Mar ’20, hobbit house

“My pouch” says Rumbly, as I sit here pondering what to write. So I’m off to the kitchen, change the music that plays from the Bluetooth speaker on top of the fridge. Choose Overkill by Colin Hay – it’s as if 49 weeks ago I had a taste in music that was timeless, eh?

colin james hay

after finishing up the Police story via Andy’s POV.

Soaking in the goodness of Peter’s ‘So’

and here – of note, ‘I wasn’t walking past my history, I was walking towards something’ got me to think of how I tend to habitually look backwards, even as I shuffle forward.

Hmm…

||12:25+20Apr2019=very early Saturday morning || videos on Amazon because I have homework that’s do||

I re-read this smattering of words – wonder where the ‘walking towards something’ came from – ‘So’? Andy’s take on ‘The Police’? Colin? and holy shit – was it a year ago that I went down the rabbit hole that is awesome good documentaries on bands & music that I’ve carried along all these years? and ‘poof’ – a year is gone. Also the title – NO idea what that’s about. Thank goodness I’ll have a moment in time to stop and look back to and say ‘I was at home, and wrote some words to put up on my blog!! Oh, and pictures too!’
🙂

a visitor from the north, c. Mar ’20, Hobbit House

So – WaPo reports we need to wear masks/coverings when we go out – is it me or is this piecemeal step by step bullshit kinda – now – terrifying? fuuuuuu…. Oh – hey, a visitor from the north comes to say hi and stays for a bit!! glad to have her – hope the scars heal in time for all involved :- )
Her interest in photography makes me happy at least. Rumbly’s adoration of her from day 1 is also a very good thing! “Lyssa – Wake UP!”

Kimya was up after some tunes from the Scrubs Soundtracks – “I Like Giants”. I hope we all get through this alright – I know we won’t. Kinda dawned on me, between pouch filling, dishes, dropping off cough drops for Boo’s Nerd Date that the tunes I’ve stacked a good number of my playlists with are tunes from times where I felt … raw? unprotected from the ravages of life? broken? yup – all of the above. Fuck you October – and yet, here I am. Here we are. Survived all these years, healed a great deal, grown up a bit and transitioned into the unlikely status of ‘parent’ – who’d have thought.

A Boy and His Wagon – the Rumbly Story! c. Mar ’20, Hobbit House

I do not share this part of my life via the socials much, or even at all. I hate that the world we live in makes that choice a wiser one. My kiddo is awesome – Boo’s done an amazing job!! I suspect part of the generalized terror I’m nodding acknowledgement of as I walk the path nowadays is that I am not ready. Not ready to be a parent. A dad. Not ready to deal with the challenges of a ‘threen-ager’ as Boo sometimes says. Not ready to lift this shit-tacular pile of crumbling, flaming fuckness up and away from this essence of pure good and joy. Nope, not ready in the least. Cruel joke, this. And as I have before – for it is a habit perhaps at this stage in my life – and probably will again, I’ll put my heart and soul into this one thing and hope for the best. A rock in times of turbulence, a shelter from the storm perhaps.

I see you, friend. I see you, idiotic fool. Oh – I see you and us and myself. This ride is not going to stop, we will not be allowed to get off before the end. E Ticket indeed. I love you even if we don’t talk. I love you even if we disagree who’s to blame. My pride/ego keeps me from adding one more impossible task to the to-do list for the end of days. I’m trying to do the things I enjoy – mucking with words, poking about with pictures. I hope – truly truly hope – you are giving your heart to what it is that makes you happy, that gives you joy, that is the more important thing than winning this race that is unwinnable. Wash your face, stop touching your hands. I’m gonna go find my motorcycle helmet.

ciao! may you find joy in your day. ::ps::

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