And the mouse police never sleep

Alright, let's get right to it - no dilly, no dallying - and put another dent into reader mail. Excited? Me, too!


I found your blog through a Larry McMurtry search. You haven't mentioned him in a while. He's my favorite author. How do you rank him?

Lizabeth12


Well, Lizabeth12, he ranks very high with me. The Lonesome Dove and Berrybender  books floored me. When I first started reading Lonesome Dove, I expected it to be a well-written, serious western. Instead what I got was a well-written (so fucking well written!) rollicking adventure that had a welter of twists and turns, drama, humor, sorrow, you name it! The closest thing to his westerns that I've read is George R.R. Martin's Song of Ice And Fire series, another favorite of mine. Despite being in the throes of four books right now, I've got the strong urge to read some McMurtry. Can I resist the urge long enough to finish one or two first? We'll see.




I've tried meditating before but honestly I think it doesn't work. At least not for me. I gave it a couple of weeks and didn't feel any change. What do you get out of it?

theBaron&Duke

I've been a meditator most of my adult life. I've utilized various methods, including the use of a mantra, visualization, and giving attention to the breath. I've gone long stretches meditating daily followed periods of no meditating at all. When I meditate consistently, I benefit in different ways, some subtle, some overt. I could go into more detail, but I won't because I want to get on with this post. Here's the deal with meditation:

When you sit still in a quiet place for an extended period of time, you will be hooked again and again by thoughts. It happens to beginners and adepts alike. Our minds are overgrown, unkempt gardens. Or, as Chogyam Trungpa put it, "The human realm is a huge traffic jam of discursive thought". I've talked to so many people who've abandoned their practice early on because they felt they were doing it wrong or weren't good at it. "No matter how hard I try, I can't quiet my thoughts" is a common complaint. Having thoughts while meditating is to be expected. Our minds are constantly churning them out and usually we are at their beck and call. Meditating gives us the opportunity to acknowledge the rising and falling of thoughts that manifest as craving, grasping, desire without becoming attached to them. During almost every session I get hooked by thoughts right out of the gate. Some are stickier than others but eventually I reach a place of quiet; the sea may be stormy on its surface but not at its lower depths.

When I meditate frequently I'm more discerning about which thoughts I heed and I get hooked less frequently. This results in a calmer demeanor and more skillful decision making, among other things. Maybe in another post I'll expand on the topic and riff about the appearance of synchronicity and a stronger sense of intuition that comes with a consistent meditation practice.




I had a debate with a friend about whether smoking cigarettes is a form of suicide. I think it is. How about you?

DeezEjacobs


I wouldn't go so far to classify it as suicide but I see where you're coming from.I'd say it's more of a gamble. When I smoked, I wasn't trying to end things; I took the gamble that I'd escape the habit's adverse effects, which are many. I'm so glad I quit; it's such a satanic habit and it had me under its spell for too long. I'm also glad that more and more people are quitting. I rarely encounter smokers these days. That is a good thing.




Alright, lovers, time to wrap this up. I didn't get to all of it, but I made some headway.

Cheers!

In the fields the bodies burning, as the war machine keeps churning

Friday is here and so am I, back to deliver what I'm sure will be an award-winning post. Time will tell. Well, let's get on with it. It occurred to me during the week that I've been neglectful of reader (virtual) mail; I decided to address some of it in an effort to be more accommodating to you my loyal readers. Let's begin.


You seem to like music. What have you been listening to?
-Coralndubs

Here's a sampling, Coralndubs.

1. Jethro Tull's Thick As A Brick
2. Grizzly Bear's Friends
3. Department of Eagle's In Ear Park
4. Badfinger's Straight Up
4 The Who's The Who By Numbers
5. Patrick Watson's Adventures In Your Own Backyard 
6.  The Budos Band's Burnt Offering 

I've also been listening to the small voice within.


Glad to hear you went ahead and got tattoos. Will you get more in the future or is this it?
-Mythmaker09

I am most definitely going to get more. Probably a half sleeve on at least one arm. Just have to decide what I want and put aside some money. I'll be spending more next time around, to be sure.


I used to like reading about The Shitter. You didn't write about him too much to begin with, but then you quit entirely. Can you give me an update?
-Tammi-doe-a-deer11

The Shitter has upped his game. He's constantly in the bathroom shitting. If I'm in the men's room with him at least four times a day and he's shitting every time (trust me, he's shitting - my ears and nose can attest to that) , that's a lot of shitting! And those are just the times I'm aware of; I have to assume he's in the bathroom shitting when I'm not around. Dude, maybe you should change your diet.


One change you've made that has paid off. Go!
-Rusty00

A little over a year ago, I stopped listening to the radio, particularly sports radio. I don't know why it took me so long. What a waste of fucking time that was.



It's late so I'm going to have to finish these another time.


Peace, lovers

The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on

I don't post much these days, as you can tell if you're a regular reader of this blog. I'm not one for making declarations, so I'll probably never come out and say I'm retiring, but, to put it bluntly, this has become somewhat of a chore for me and it's seldom that I feel inspired to write.

Maybe I need to shake things up, be more adventurous. This blog has been reduced to me recounting events in my life and not much more. Kind of boring, especially considering all the juicy stuff I leave out. And boring posts make me yawn and not want to write. And if I don't want to write, then what the fuck am I writing for?

So here's the deal: I do think I need to shake things up a bit if I'm going to continue. So stay tuned; if I'm inspired you'll be hearing from me. Otherwise....well, who knows.

Nighty, night

Makes it easy to make it hard, take an inch take a yard

I've been home for a couple of days. Spira has been feeling better but is still weak. Thursday was her worst day and the blood test results were still outstanding. She wasn't getting better and there were no answers. I was distracted all day at work with worry; I tried to keep balanced, but it wasn't happening for any length of time.

When I got Spira's place after work, she answered the door and two things were immediately evident: she was upright and she was smiling. She was feeling better. For the first time in well over a week she was feeling better. I hugged her; I couldn't believe it. As she told me about the sandwich she ate earlier, the first solid food she'd had in a while, I was misty with gratitude. She was still sick, but it didn't matter: she was feeling better.

We still don't know exactly what type of virus she has, but it's a real asshole. Test results from her blood work are still trickling in. In the meantime, Spira's health improves and and I thank the Universe on my knees. It was a rough ride.

--

Craig came up on Friday and we got dinner at Yoshi's and walked over to Anthony's on Highland to see the Red Telephone play. Saw some people I hadn't seen in years. A nice reunion. The band put on a good set and there was a lot of good cheer.

Afterward, Craig and I came back to my place for some smoke,listened to some music and talked. We hadn't hung out like that in a long time. The next morning, we went to Kelly's for breakfast. I got the special, which involved three eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, and hash browns. I'm not going to lie to you: I cleaned my plate despite having the feeling I wouldn't be able to. Every once in a while it's okay to overindulge. Clearly I didn't follow the Buddha's practice of stopping five bites before I felt full. Well, hold on, I never really felt full, so perhaps I followed the instructions to the letter. Oh, who knows.

Well, that's enough outta me for a bit. My tattoos continue to heal - almost there - and I think it's possible I'll have more work done sooner than later. We'll see. My yoga practice continues to grow and is more intuitive than ever. What else? Well, I'm listening to Badfinger and reading from Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche's The Myth of Freedom, King's 11/23/63, and Goldstein's Mindfulness. I'm close to wrapping up the last season of The Walking Dead and once I do I'll probably catch up with Boardwalk Empire. I don't watch much of anything these days, but when I do, I make it count, like a champ.

Bye

It's been a long time, now I'm coming back home

I've been staying at Spira's since Friday. She's sick and not getting better. We still don't know what she has, though lyme disease, hepatitis, and malaria have been offered up as possibilities by the various doctors she's seen. Every inch of her is in pain. Her joints are inflamed, she can barely get around. The fever hasn't let up since early last week. Last night there was some vomiting. Every day seems to add another symptom.

I hope we find out what the hell is going on so the road to recovery can begin. They gave her pain meds today; that is a start. I wish they had done that to begin with, but when we first went to Urgent Care the joint pain and the headaches hadn't arrived yet.

I'll stay at her place as long as she needs me to. I feel so bad, helpless.Still, I'm doing what I can, making sure she's as comfortable as possible. And I'm staying as positive and even-keeled as I can; I need to be stable for her. Occasionally, I'm able to make her laugh.

Alright, it's off with me. Need to pack a few things and head out.

Hare Krishna!

Hang fire, hang fire, put it on a wire

Heading into last weekend, I knew the conditions were in place for me to get the tattoos I'd been planning on getting for weeks. Everything was coming together seamlessly, which is how it goes, I believe, when you have an intention and feed it regularly with enthusiastic attention whilst maintaining an uncluttered mind that has ears to hear and eyes to see.

By Friday, I had narrowed down what I wanted my tattoos to be. After weeks of research, I decided to forgo getting mandalas on my wrists because I learned they would lose definition over time. And since I was determined to have tattoos on my wrists I decided to go with a simpler, but equally meaningful, image: the om symbol. Simple but powerful: the sound of creation.

I decided, more intuited, that I wanted the Hindu script on my left wrist and Tibetan script on the right. I also left room for other ideas should they arise; I didn't want to be too rigid. I was confident I'd end up with the om symbols, though, because I was seeing them on my arms sometimes when my eyes were closed and sometimes when they weren't. Soft images, unbeckoned.

After my morning meditation on Saturday, I called Spira and she was receptive to the idea of coming with me to get my tattoos, which was great because all along I wanted her to be there with me, though I would have gone on my own if need be. I even convinced her to get one of her own, though she didn't need much convincing. I went to her place and we printed out the symbols I wanted and she printed out some sacred geometry images she was interested in. I considered going that route, but wasn't sure if one of them, particularly the flower of life, would fit on my wrists.

We went to a place called Skin Art in Cambridge, not far from Spira's place. She had been there before and had a good experience. Early on in the process, I had asked people I knew with tattoos for advice. Everyone was helpful, but most of them recommended a place that was a long drive away with waiting lists that could take weeks or months. I was also told there would be a consultation visit. Because I was planning on simple tattoos on my wrists, I didn't think it was unreasonable to expect to walk into a place and have it done on the spot. If I was getting something more complicated, then it would be a different story. So, the fact that Spira and I were doing this local as walk-ins was just what I wanted.

We met with a guy named Ed who said he could take us right away. We came at the right time; not long after people, including a group of college girls who wanted Red Sox "B" tattoos, started coming in. After a while, people were being turned away.

Ed went to work on me first. It definitely wasn't a pleasurable feeling, but it wasn't quite painful. It helped having Spira there to chat with. Overall, it was an enjoyable experience. It took about 45 minutes for both wrists. I had no "What have I done?" moment, no remorse. Once the tattoos were applied, it was as if they belonged. Spira's tattoo, the seed of life symbol on her arm, took about the same length of time as both of mine. We were both giddy; it was fun getting tattoos together.

Everyone with tattoos says once you get one, you'll want more. I wanted more right away. I'll sit with these a while and maybe in a couple of months, I'll see where I'm at. In the meantime, I'm still tending to the ones I have, letting them heal.

I wasn't sure how my mother would feel about this development, but she was really cool about it. She told me she was happy that I did something for myself, that I hardly indulge myself. She even said she liked them. Perhaps she would have had a different reaction if I got them was I 18. Who knows.

So there you go. I feel great about what I did. When I meditate and practice yoga all I have to do is look at my wrists for inspiration. These tattoos, more than vanity, bolster my commitment to the spiritual path, which is never ending. I'm glad I did this. It felt right.