Cold Mess

Bunch of fragments: poetry and butterfly raving in the breeze

Because wife and I started doing Tai Chi and they have allusive flowery names for movements and what they call “posts,” what in yoga they call poses. Like White Crane Cools Wings is a “post.” It doesn’t have to be white, or a crane, but there it is, they say that and we know what we’re supposed to do with our bodies.

Butterfly maybe has an opinion about the wind.

Poetry in prose. Observation in action. Step with left foot lift left hand at same time. Ooh, that was a good one.

I remember I spent hours at a time writing Faith and Foolishness after 9/11. Where are those hours now. Comprehensively not available. Too many things on the list. Too much to do. Too busy to get anything done.

In Praise of Factions/Doctrines/Movements/etc.

They tell the same story
They went and did this and that
In this situation or that
And the same annoyances
The traditional ones, familiar beloved itches, so I know it’s me
And the same emotuonal flavors, the ones I’m used to,
the good old anguishes and angers,
how I’d recognize me if I saw me,
old familiar, beloved even, miss them when they’re gone
The pleasant mild exasperations (breathe in, then breath out, a certain expression on face or not on face, in mind’s eye, call it the heart but it’s not the heart, it’s the mind’s eye. The heart is down there, beating, mind’s eye, distracted by it’s own pictures it’s amusing itself with, doesn’t notice.

So I can feel superior to
This thing I find my self before

Laziny lyong idiot who thinks he’ll get away with it because I haven’t said anything yet


Making the case that I was going to do it anyway:
It was the sense of responsibility that kept me going for my people. It had been: get the jobs done and it became do what we tell you. Which would have been ok if it had worked but it comprehensively didn’t.

But the responsibility to my people. So, good, it was done for me.
For about 2 days I thought about what I’d do with the spare time.
Then the proverbial ton of bricks.

So yes, i was starting to try to plan my way out.
Oh and the health stuff.
But now I don’t have to plan my out for half of my people. They’re not mine anymore. Now what about the other half?

Always in my precious (previous) employment episodes there has been a layer of bs to work with. Sometimes thicker than other times. Lifelong habit has been to put up with it for a while. Part if that is to pretend that it isn’t happening. The bsers grade on the quality of the pretending. I’ve never been able to pretend more than the bare minimum and that is a big chore. They can just look at me and see that I don’t believe it. I don’t have to say anything. They know. Not good for the resume. So what have I done for the last 24 years? Self employment. How’s that going? Still here.

I’d written that I’d write till I was done. Actually I got the emotional part done pretty quick. The revenge part is taking a bit longer. But I’ve forsworn revenge simple (in the medieval phrasing), the dance of “this is for that.” If I do anything it would be in the way of frustrating something anonymously or forcing a hand anonymously. That’s my style.

Still the basic topic is how to survive and thrive in a generally absurd and occasionally impossible situation. My observation function seems to show me that everyone is in a similar situation a lot if the time when other humans are around. So maybe me ruminating on the topic might yield something someone might be able to use. Maybe me, even. To survive and thrive.

Praise Continued

We’ve got a system they say.
It works we have proved it. Here’s the evidence.

Perhaps they succeed in convincing themselves. Or others.
Perhaps they strive for and obtain some measure of power over the events of, you know, sentient beings.

They can level mountains. They can’t make oceans.

Anyway. Cracks appear.
They missed stuff. Or things changed.
They can’t admit it because of reputational considerations,
even if the reputational thing is only how they feel about themselves.

So things drag on until they (the things) go over a cliff.
If I went over with them that was my problem, right?

There may be momentary episodes of drama.
Bored people perhaps will make their own drama.
The events of real life tend to make those things seem irrelevant.
I start to say to my self: I can’t do anything about That but”
This has to get taken care of now.

But it usually isn’t a cliff, it’s a steep hill,
easy to tumble down, then easier to not try to get back up.

I tell myself I like this better.
I roll with the punches. I get out if the way.
I find something else to do

Perhaps they succeed in conniving themselves.