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5 Pills

Friday, June 14, 2019 | 0 Comment(s)

I’m up to 5 pills a day now. Prescribed. Three and a half before bedtime and then another pill and a half when I wake up. In truth, I have another two half-pills at the ready, depending on how my emotions cascade on any given day. So that makes the possibility of 6 pill days. But mostly, I’m a 5 a day guy. 
(image from drug.com)

How Not to Island

Friday, May 31, 2019 | 0 Comment(s)

It was one of the most amazing snorkels I’d been on.  
It is Christmas Day, and there isn’t a person in sight. My wife and I enter the placid Caribbean waters like a secret, our only company silence and stillness. The visibility is crystal clear, and the ocean is alive. My wife and I work our way along the left side of the cove, searching for unexpected beauty and octopuses’ dens. As a matter of fact, when searching for octopuses, the tell tale sign to look for is a small pile of shiny white discarded mollusk shells, most often clams, just outside any cave-like opening or overhang. Often you have to dive down to even have a chance of spotting an hourglass shaped eye peering out from behind the defense of a large tentacle, blocking the entrance. On the other hand, if you are looking for unexpected beauty, I have less advice. Be still and try to find a calm. Admittedly that is more or less good advice for finding unexpected beauty anywhere. 
Snorkeling, for me, is extremely meditative. While I don’t ignore my swimming buddy or anything, with my head submerged, I’m tethered tightly to my present. And in this case the present is an underwater seascapade, brimming with bolting colors and oddly shaped marine life. Being in that present for any amount of time is a real gift in a world of computers, cellphones, and the internet. Getting to snorkel alone, sans noisy tourist groups, is a particular treat.
I see the barrel chest of a massive barracuda, at least 5 feet long, gliding between my wife and I just as I am made aware of the even larger barrel of a kayak, stopping short just a few feet from where we were floating. As I took my face out of the water to alert Erin to the massive sea beast passing through, I instead hear, “Oh Hello, HI!” 

poems

Wednesday, May 15, 2019 | 0 Comment(s)

At all

Long since given up defining myself
Borders are too malleable. moveable. manipulatable. 
Now I can’t even figure out how I’m being defined
I don’t even know the me that they say I am.
So I don’t know who to be
At all.

Growing

The elation of giving everything
is rarely fed when falling short.
Failure is growth
and growth is a son of a bitch.
a real hail storm.
fight club.
sea sickness out on the open ocean.
just jump in already. 
there is no movement underneath
the crest of the waves. 
That kind of growth.
rarely fed
by the deflation of giving everything
and falling short 

Dog Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

Tuesday, October 23, 2018 | 0 Comment(s)

I didn't take the dogs out to go to the bathroom before going to bed for a number of reasons.

First and foremost, I was going to bed early. Usually I'm up well past midnight, but I decided to try and start my day bright and early this Tuesday, so I was in the bathroom finishing my bedtime routine around 11:30. This all matters because my wife had gone upstairs a mere hour and a half before me, and both dogs went outside to the bathroom with her, before the little one, the mama's boy, went to crawl into bed with my wife. These dogs can hold it for quite some time, so I figure even with the 1.5 hour start, both of them would be comfortable until morning, 6 hours away.

Second, we have a doggy-door. So really, our polly-prissy-pants pitbulls can expel whatever they want, whenever they want. They have compete, and one could argue, too much, freedom.

"Dad, please open the human door for us for no apparent reason!"
If you need to  pee. Go pee. If you need to poop, same thing. Go poop.

And finally, the last reason I didn't wake up the pups to take them out to pee is that I'm lazy sometimes. Most of all right before bed. And I didn't want to take them out, knowing the probable outcome of that action would be one of them barking into the night like a cacophonous metaphor for life, and then I would have to wrangle that metaphor back into the house.

Essentially, I let sleeping dogs lie. Just like they tell you too.

It did not work out well for me.