Does believing in fate give us an excuse?

Maybe the belief that a moral foothold exists where there are none. Don't you still have to accept the responsibility. In mythology the Fates had some power even above the gods. But those were "Fates" and mythology. Wouldn't fate really just be the window opening when the door closes, the chance to make a decision you've always wanted to, or a second chance.
So it seems my "timing is always off " is in essence that my timing works in my favor. How would you know it was bad timing unless there is also the possibility of it being good timing.

R & S like to hang out together.
Some people think it's because they have lived next to each other in the alphabet for so long.
I know it's because they're in love.

S took R out Saturday. She doesn't seem to get out much and, since she felt rich from a recent business reimbursement, she wanted them go on a date. No groups of his friends, no inclusions of her family or people she works with. Just the two of them.

There is a lovely walk down less trafficked, tree shaded streets between his place and the neighborhood restaurant that passes for posh. It was still early evening and it would have been a lovely walk if S hadn't been worried about the timeline and if her conversation didn't verge on harassment of a dead horse.

R let all of this slide. A well rehearsed tease and, like half of an old married couple, he tuned her out. Dinner was followed by a bit of comedic theater and 2 pitchers of unknown mixed liquors. Needless to say by the time they left he had forgotten about her rambling nagging attempts that pass for interlude to conversation and thought she was the most beautiful clever woman in the world.

The Pagan and The Druid

The rummage sale was a hodgepodge.
Books, wedding dress, Christmas tree and decorations.
I picked up a book for my sister on animal spirits from the druidic tradition.
I see it as a lovely gift. The young seller sees it as an act of love
selling off her old beliefs for a lover.
She gave the pagan her heart and spirit
I just gave her three dollars.

I could complain more...could I complain more?

I've been so tired lately. I wonder if it an age thing. I use to catch my father dozing at his desk about 2:30 if it was a slow day. I just want to sleep about then too these days. I wonder about the age thing, but it's just been recent. I don't recall aging that much in the past 2 weeks. I did have 3 fevers prior to this. I wonder if I just never recouped. Maybe I'm ill, maybe I drink too much, maybe I'm board, maybe I'm getting old.
Eh, who cares. I have nothing to write. Haven't been creative lately. My life is boring and my job top secret. My sister is on strike and, if she has the funds to survive, I actually envy her. What employed person doesn't want time off? I know, tomorrow is Friday, but to me that makes no difference. Even if I have the whole weekend off it's just a count down till the dreaded Monday.

IloveMyJobiLovemyJobilovemyjob
and my life's pretty good too

Ever find that song that stirred you long ago and discover the lyrics fit a little too well in hindsight?
Vade Mecum

She Just Wants To Be
R.E.M.
Reveal
It's not that she walked away
Her road grew smaller
All the same destinations
Only something's changed.

It's not that she wasn't rewarded
With pomegranate afternoons
Mingus, Chet Baker and chess
It's not stamped in fortune
A prim affectations
She's off on the run
And she knows now
Is greater than the whole
Of the past
Is greater and now she knows

She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be

It's not that the transparency
Of her earlier incarnations
Now look back on
Were rich and loaded
With beautiful vulnerability
But now she knows
Now is greater
And she knows that.

She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.

Now is greater
Now is greater
And she knows that.


It's not like if angels
Could truly look down
Stir up the trappings
And light on the ground
Remind us of what, when, why or who
The how's up to us
Me and you
And now is greater than the whole
Of the past
Is greater and now she knows that.

Now she knows.

I wish there was something to do.
There really isn't. There's nothing left to do now but wait. To sit and watch the people leave on the verge or in tears. This place is turning into a ghost town. Floor by floor the sucking sound of the economy follows the echo of their last footsteps along the hollow corridor. Everything must go! Everyone left is working for free or being paid off by a loan taken out with the bank. When your $30 million in the hole what's a little more? I don't even work for the company. I just rent space here. That's bad enough in this economy. With business down, to have to try to find space to rent. I need the support services that a law firm can offer. I don't have equipment or furniture. Right now clients are hard to come by. How can I afford outgoing expenses with out incoming revenue? I'm one of the lucky ones. How can I complain when friends on this floor are given 72 hours notice, no health insurance, no pension, no severance. Kind of puts it all into perspective. I have till the end of the month. If I have to hit the pavement to find new digs so be it. If I have to purchase all the equipment a business of a year and a half should already have then I have to. They are surviving, I can too.
There's just nothing to do. I can sit here with everything boxed up, hovering in towers, around my ears. I can only budget so much, with nothing to base anything on, for so long.
That's what we're all thinking.

So long.

The apple of my eye

I peer inside of you like an insect pressing deep into a flower. Seeking out the depths of the attraction.
I learned little but carried so much away.
You drew me back to you as time progressed to discover and devour your inner secret. Hovering on the outside, contemplating the softness beneath the protective skin, chewing thoughtfully and delving deeper into the meal of your heart. I learn of your core, your nurturing, your depth. I dig deeper till I have carved out a niche away from the world and you embrace me in a protective sweetness as the rain falls outside.

Then it hits me...tomorrow I'll be gone

Last night, comfortable again
with the darkness pressing in
it doesn't even occur to me how close is the day
for me to go again. The time is slipping away.
Tomorrow everything will be different
pressure of movement or sedentary nature resistant
I'm late, not even time to go and I'm late
It's me who rushes, ruining everything, not fate

A diatribe for your edification

I am amongst the beggars in Chicago every day. What is the PC term for that? I know they aren't all vagrants or homeless. Spangers (spare-changers) is what they were called in Portland. I always thought it a more friendly and all encompassing term.
I generally don't feel sorry for them, and that's my callousness. I'll look at them even if I don't have change to give them. I'm sure there are enough people who pretend that they don't exist. Sometimes they get change, a cigarette, a word or smile from me. Don't get me wrong, I'm nobody's moral better, most of the time they get nothing. There's a scrawny old man with a dog. He gets plenty of attention so I've never stopped. I keep meaning to bring the dog biscuits sitting in a canister in my apartment, moved in anticipation of my dog who I can't (in good conscience) let join me. I never remember. Or I think "Good thing I didn't bring them today" if he isn't there. I notice when they are not there. I miss them as you would miss a bus stop. "Well I guess I'll have to walk another block to find one"
I passed a well dressed young man selling candy "Support Christian Schools" and kept walking. A bit of resentment welling up. That was the old, half blind, Street Wise sellers corner. Who did this kid think he was in his oxford button down and tie? It could also just be my harbored resentment for the Christian Schools in general, but I think I was slighted for my Street Wise Guy. The next day I passed someone asking for spare change for the Red Cross. Walking up and down begging with a Red Cross standard issue box with a slot. Good cause and all but I was annoyed. I have cultivated a disdain for organizations that beg. They are organizations for crying out loud! Just creating another spanger. Hold a telethon, have a fund raising party where all those people, too well dressed and too busy to look at the everyday spangers, can feel good about themselves.
What if the spangers organized. The Spangers Union. It could have subsections. The Drug addicts and alcoholics branch can meet at NA meetings for coffee, donuts and to discuss where they bought their vice of choice the cheapest. The homeless could meet at a different persons cardboard box or covered walkway and discuss the best place to crash or trash dive while they sipped half drunk and discarded lattés. The veterans could meet in a VA meeting room. Searching for hidden microphones, discussing conspiracy theories while they throw away or trade meds. The musicians can practice and exchange ideas of what music works best for the place and time of day. If there was a union they could all organize so as to make the most of the corners. No overlapping, no empty corner when some regular can't make it that day. Best of all they could keep these pretentious organization spangers off the street and out of my way!