Insomnia Sucks

It’s happening more and more often now.

I’ll go to bed because I’m dog tired, then I’ll wake up an hour or two later and not be able to get back to sleep.

Sometimes it’s a noise that wakes me, sometimes it’s nightmares, and sometimes it’s just this weird super tension in my shoulders.

I don’t know what to do about it.

I’m going to get a massage next week, maybe that will help. I have vague memories of my Dad being like this. Whenever I asked him if he was Okay, his automatic response was;

“I’m fine Son, go back to bed, you shouldn’t be up so late.”

Of course in retrospect neither should he.

I remember his Lucky smoldering in the ashtray as he stubbed it out to herd me back to bed. He’d tuck me in, pat me and say goodnight, then return to the couch light another smoke, and go back to reading his book.

Except, he wasn’t reading, he’d be on the same page for hours. He was thinking about stuff, stuff that he didn’t feel like he could share.

I wonder if he was thinking about the same kinds of things that I do in the dead of night. I’ll never know for sure but I suspect the answer is yes.

My Dad had an amazing “public face”. You only got to see what was behind the mask if you watched very closely. Even then, it was only a glimpse.

I used to think that my Dad’s mask had become a trap. You saw most of the time, only what you were supposed to see. 

You never saw weakness, or fear, and only rarely sadness.

I sometimes pictured my Dad as The Man in The Iron Mask.

Now, having been around the block a few times. I’ve learned that most people, even your closest friends and family don’t want to see you without The Mask.

This is especially true if you’re a man. No matter what the FemNazi’s say… A strong silent Man is what they really want. The minute you get touchy-feely it’s over!

If you’re touchy-feely, you’re one of the girls and subject to the pecking order.  The guy who kept his own council and did what the hell he knew was right, is the one who’s respected.

He’s the Alpha Male, all the rest are betas or less.

I don’t smoke anymore. But tonight, I’m going to do something else my Dad did on sleepless nights.

I’m going to have a drink, I’m going to think about shit over a glass.

I’m going to address my demons, come up with a plan, and when I lay down I’m going to remember just for a moment being that little boy in the middle of the night getting tucked in by my Dad.

As I drift off to sleep…

I’ll silently thank my Dad for The Mask.

Refugee or ungrateful guest?

Some middle eastern refugees are refusing accommodation in resorts.

Some news outlets have spun this as refugees wanting to be housed in cities. This may be partially true but not for the negative reasons that pop to mind.

Although, I suppose there are some of these folks that want to be in cities because they want to cause a ruckus.

I imagine if you’ve lived in a city all your life, you’re not likely to be happy about being relocated to a rural setting. It’s not that you’re ungrateful per se, you simply don’t have the skill set to deal with the situation.

I suppose that there is some truth to the forest creating anxiety as well. I’m evil enough that I’d tell the refugees about all the wild animals at night and how those animals lurk in the forest waiting for the unwary to become a meal. Yeah I like Grimm’s tales. That might at least keep the children (If there are any) from wandering off and getting lost, thereby preventing another issue.

I think that the refugees need to have it explained to them that there is simply a finite number of beds, they can either stay in places that are available, like a resort that many Swedes can’t afford, OR they can go the hell home. There are flights to the Middle East every day. Looking at the resorts, I wonder if I can call myself a refugee and let the Swedes put me up for a few months. Damn! Nice places… I digress…

It astounds me that any real refugee would even think to demand different accommodations. If you’re really escaping war, fear for your life and the lives of your children, wouldn’t you be grateful for a roof over your head, food in your belly, and being in a safe country where you don’t have bombs going off?

Maybe it’s a little different for me. A bit more personal, when my home burned years ago, I was essentially a refugee. I literally had a bathrobe and that was it. I appreciated the kindness of people trying to help me get my feet under me again. I didn’t care that the pair of jeans were too big or the t-shirt was too long. I had clothes. I didn’t care that the flip-flops were two sizes too big. I had something on my feet.

Within days, we were in a hotel, and that’s were we stayed for a month. It was cramped, and we had to eat out every day but we were warm and dry, and it was temporary.

During that time I asked for very little and said thank you for everything because I was grateful to be alive, and for every kindness I was shown. That’s the refugee mentality I had. I suppose I expect a similar mentality from people who are escaping a horrible situation.

As someone who’s been there, my heart goes out to refugees.

As a cynic, I question the actual status of any “refugee” who’s bitching about being put up in “too rural” an environment, or complaining their stipend isn’t enough for cigarettes, or that the WiFi signal is poor, (As has happened in Germany).

I expect a real refugee to ask for only what they need. Not demand things they can do without.

I suspect if you were to ask Swedes or Germans in the privacy of their homes or depths of a forest, they’d say the same thing.

Blessed Rain!

toiletpunishment

It’s been raining since about 4:30am here.

The sound of rain on the roof isn’t what woke me. I was already up tending to an ailing dog and punishing my plumbing due to something I ate.

I think the dog appreciated the company, I on the other hand, would rather have been asleep.

If you’re not a South Park fan, the image wont make any sense. I’m not going to explain it, I’m just going to leave you wondering.

In any case it’s raining! Yipee! There are puddles in the yard and if I didn’t feel so rotten and tired I’d be tempted to go outside and play in them.

I don’t think I’d be naked… There are just too damn many people around here who might take offense. I miss the old days, when we had houses near us, but no full time neighbors. I’ll leave that to your imagination too. 

Flood Advisory.pngWe’re under a flood advisory, until 11 am. Or so says the weather thingy.

I’ve got this nifty little weather application on my computer, the best 4 bucks I’ve spent in a long time. Although in CA the application doesn’t have a lot to do. “Sunny and hot” was it’s only message for months.  

I thought the thing was broken for a while till I remembered that California weather is really that boring.  I’m exaggerating. A little…

I don’t have to worry about flooding here, but it will be a problem down in the flatlands. 

Honestly I’m too tired to really worry about it. I’ve been napping off & on all morning. The dogs are snoring and the rain is tapping on the roof. It’s quiet in the neighborhood and in the house. A lazy day to be sure, but one that is sorely needed.

I’ll have to get my butt moving soon, but not quite yet. I hope your day is as peaceful.

All I want is some quiet…

earthmovers

Between the month and a half of earth movers, dumptrucks, grinding and chirping and beep beep beep noises and the people next door constantly building, sawing, hammering, and whatever coupled with their little Chihuahua who barks every single time I or one of my usually quiet dogs step out onto the deck.

I’m well beyond a point where I want to move, I’m into the planning and wondering how to make a move.

stripmine

At this point I think living next to a gravel pit, or a strip mine might actually be quieter. Perhaps a home in the inner city ghetto of Chicago, LA or New York, the gunshots would be intermittent and I wouldn’t have to worry about neighborhood improvement projects involving heavy equipment. I’d just have to worry about the occasional renovation by riot and fire. Other than that It would probably be pretty quiet.

Okay, I exaggerate. 

chihuahua

I suppose I’m a little grumpy because today is one of those really NICE breezy days. It’s not so breezy that it’s destructive or kicking up a ton of dust but just nice enough that it’s not too cool, not too warm and we’ve got intermittent clouds making it a perfect day to be out on my rear deck, writing blogs, or stories or looking for a job, or just enjoying the breeze

Problem is, if i set foot outside the rear door Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap!

Then my dog decides he needs to have the last word because that little Yappy dog is barking at me, and he charges the fence line barking and the little Chihuahua who has to answer, stirs up the bigger dog in their house so that now we have three dogs barking at each other for no good reason.

Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap!  BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! 

uglyfence

My dog has accidentally destroyed the raspberries that I had planted along that side of the yard, and more than once has injured himself because of that nasty ill behaved little POS.

I don’t even try to go out on the deck now. In fact I don’t even LIKE going out there to tend the plants or anything else. I’m to the point that between the awful looking fence, and the nasty little dog, I don’t go out there if I can help it at all.

It’s just way too annoying.

goodpup

I’ve been taking my dogs ON LEASH out to the front yard just so I don’t have to hear the little bitch yapping.

I’ll admit I don’t like Chihuahuas in general. When I was a young boy, the old woman next door had two or three of the things and they made any attempt to play in my back yard absolutely miserable.

That’s part of why I stayed in my room and read books so much. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the outdoors, and it wasn’t that I was a nerd, it was that I couldn’t stand incessant barking and noise even as a child.

To this day, among the first lessons my dog is taught, is barking is not a good thing and when I tell them to shut up I mean it.

dreams for the dog next door

My old dog just can’t let it go he’s 13, and a grand old man for his breed. The Chihuahua is right there barking at him, at me, and sticking her nose through the fence to do it. I honestly can’t blame him for barking back. But the cycle is never ending and I end up yelling at him to be heard, and then he’s in trouble for nothing he’s done wrong.

Of course it’s not the Chihuahua’s fault either, it’s the OWNERS! If they exercised the least bit of control and assertiveness over the animal, things would be better. But that household is two women and they don’t correct the dog, they try talking to it. I swear at this point, it’s shock collar time!

I might be inclined to step out on the deck every 10 minutes just to hear the Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap!  YIPE!  

I love animals, I detest badly behaved animals.

I miss the quiet of the wind in the trees not having neighbors.

Guess I’m going to have to get a “GO AWAY! Home of Grumpy old man” doormat.

Oh I’ll have to make a recording that says “You kids get off my lawn,” too. I say recording because I’m a modern kind of guy, I won’t actually be out on the porch yelling, I’ll use a proximity sensor and MP3 player.

There’s just too much in my head

JamesCaanrollerball

There are some of you that will say there’s not enough in my head, as in I don’t have a full deck.

Well you may be right.

The past couple of days, have been days where I’ve got a ton of cool stuff running around in my head but I can’t seem to grab any one of those things and hang on.

I know I need to focus and yet the more I try to force the focus the more scattered the thoughts become.

Purgeani

I think it’s time to clear the noggin.

The question is, HOW?

It was as I was pondering this question that I flashed on Rollerball with James Caan.

Pikacho

There’s this scene where he’s letting go of all kinds of things. His best friend is brain dead, and the corporations have taken his wife away and given her to a more popular player. He’s sitting in his apartment watching recordings of happier times and decided to let it all go. He presses a button on his remote and the recording of his wife freezes then dissolves.

Which led to the question, “Do I have what I need to create animated GIF’s?” The answer to that question is the flashing text above.

I need to find that button in my brain.

I know electroshock can reset an errant brain. I think that’s probably a bit drastic.

Romanorgy

Sex can do it sometimes but the last time that worked for me required a weekend at a resort I know of, where… well, lets just say there are times when some of the classics of Rome are re-enacted, sans the killing of emperors, senators, and burning of cities.

Then I flash back to James Caan and wonder why Scott Caan wasn’t in the remake of Rollerball.

Then I’m back to the pondering of resetting my brain.

And then I realize I’ve gotten up 4 times to go get a glass of tea and keep getting lost between here and the kitchen!

I’m beginning to think my muse is having a speed run pumping all kinds of stuff into my head.

That orgy is looking better and better all the time!

One of those nights…

Hell

It’s hot. 

Not brutally HELL hot, but warm enough that sleep is hard to come by.

Like most guys I’ve already tried using our built-in sleeping aid. Multiple times! There’s only so many times you can get your rocks off and not fall asleep before you say fuck it!

That’s where I am now. The fuckit phase. My body is happily relaxed, I’m sitting here at my desk naked as the day I was born, albeit a bit hairier. The other half is tossing and turning, and snoring so loud it’s rattling the walls. This may be one of those nights where I sleep here in the office / guest room.  I have a tall glass of water but am contemplating something stronger. 

Rise of the Guardians Sandman

The Sandman is freakin late! I have a good mind to punch him square in the face when he does finally come.

It’s supposedly not a good idea to work on computers or iPads if you’re trying to fall asleep. but I don’t want to lay in bed looking at the ceiling wondering if I should abuse and frustrate myself again. Besides, I’m running low on personal lubricant! After all there’s only so many orgies you can host before your lube supply shows the strain.

So here I am blogging.

Recently I’ve been asking myself why I blog at all. The answer seems to be that this fulfills a need to express myself and I think of the blog as more like a diary of sorts. It’s obviously not like the locked up super secret private journal that many people keep. No, this is out there and public, and would probably prevent me from seeking political office.

Maybe that too is a good thing, I’m not sure I could sell my soul the way our politicians have to just to get elected. I don’t lie very well.

03 19 2014 plaid  7

Don’t get me wrong… I can lie better than any politician you care to name. It’s just that I choose to live telling as few lies as is possible. “Yes that dress has a slimming effect on you.” (Subconsciously, I’m thinking, “in the same way black slims down the size of an 18 wheeler.”)

Lying about my principals, or core beliefs is something that I’d rather not do. My preference is to simply keep my mouth shut and in extreme cases; at a party for example, I’ll have another drink. The trouble is, if I were running for office I’d be drunk off my ass most of the time.  Maybe that would work. Our politicians seem to be drunk or high more often than not. I’d hate to believe that they were naturally as stupid and dishonest as they appear to be. Realistically, they probably are, but that’s another discussion.

Porn?

Kiss, kiss, kiss, lick, lick, lick, suck, suck, suck, fuck, fuck, fuck, ropey globs of cum, artificially happy & satisfied, expressions. The dudes in gay films are happy because they just made 3k! Hell, I’d be smiling too! I don’t know what the pay scale is for the cast in a straight movie. I suppose the women are paid pretty well, but the dudes aren’t.  Thus the saying, “gay for pay.”

However, while I usually don’t make it through the first scene of a porn flick before I fall asleep. Most porn is predictable. Well, at least the first 5 minutes of the first scenes, that’s usually all I see before I’m off in dreamland. Tonight it’s unlikely that will work

DoleQueue

I’m amped about jobs, and money, and trying to chart a future (and failing) which is adding to my angst. That’s how I can be physically very relaxed and mentally my brain is in overdrive.  

Funny, my writing this seems to have quieted my mind. 

Gentle reader you should probably book mark this one, if my writing it put me to sleep, You reading it should work pretty much like the best sleeping pill you can buy.

Donations gratefully accepted!

Good night!