You know that private browser tab you push?

They’re watching…

They know what you show the light and what shames you.

You’re shame empowers others.

When I step out, there will be crying, laughing, mourning, rejoicing.

Then

I’ll be forgotten.

It’s good that I’ll get a chance to rest.

May you have friends who never let you get into the bed in worse shape than you got out of it.

The pancakes and apple butter, from his late dinner, still hung in his nose, as he added cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg to his warmed cider.   Carrying his drink to the old stuffed chair, that faced the piano, in the living room, he sat the drink down, on the wood chair, that served as desk, counter, and workbench most evenings – before migrating to bed.

Sitting in the chair, he placed his feet on the ottoman left by a lover who had overstayed her welcome, to the point of providing furnishings for the old house.  In his mind, his own complicity in the process had long since been forgotten.

As he reached for the cider, he felt and heard his back crackle – stiff from the days work.  The drink was just overly warm – which is to say just the right temperature to sip its slow cooling with care and pleasure.

The sound of his good collie dog licking her feet was accompanied only by the sound of the furnace kicking on and blowing air up through the vents.  She stood up and clicked away – stepping on the hard wood floor.  As she entered the kitchen, he heard the old gun dog growl a soft protest at the disturbance.  Everyone knew it was a symbolic act.  There was no real threat of violence.

Another sip of cider marked time.

His phone buzzed.  He read the text from a dear friend asking him to join for a drink.  He paused to consider the incongruity of the cell phone with all the other elements of his life.  The thought passed.  He responded that was very comfortable, but that they were welcome to join.

Yoga he thought.  Perhaps he would do yoga in a bit.  Stretch out and all.  He imagined the feeling of the slow stretching in his back and legs as he settled further into the chair.

The collie walked back in and whined softly.  He absently told her to hush, as he picked up the book he had begun.  Kurt Vonnegut.  He’d been meaning to read something by him for years.  The story opened well enough – giving early indications of a skepticism that promised to shed light (if not joy).

He read for a bit.  Took a final draft of cider.  Rolled his neck.  Stretched his shoulders back.  Slowly stood up.  And walked to bed.

I have heard that “the sins of the father” may be visited on the son.

Dad, if I could carry some of your burden I would.

Maybe I do. Maybe I am a positive number on your soul’s balance sheet.  If I’m not, maybe I will be.

The nature of sin is that it’s gravity is rarely felt until after the act is complete or completely understood.

How was it for you?  How is it for you?

Sin is like an avalanche sliding over generations.

Perhaps it stops here.

The battle is within.

4 pounds of pull on the trigger.  Nothing.

What is a life worth to me?

Priceless?  No.

Mine, yours, ours, family, friends.  How do I calculate the arithmetic?

Liberty and safety are at odds.

The greater the freedom, the greater the peril, the greater the cost.

What price will I pay?

Who would I sacrifice to be free?

Who wouldn’t I sacrifice to be free?

What would it take for me to stand up?

4 pounds of pull and I set both of us free.

If we can give a corporation a life, surely we can give it a soul.

“Matthew 7

Authorized (King James) Version (AKJV)

7 Judge not, that ye be not judged. 2 For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. 3 And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? 4 Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye? 5 Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother’s eye.”

NOTE TO SELF:

Discontinue the following practices prior to passing Biblically based judgement on anyone else.

1) Borrowing money for house, education, automobile, presents (especially CHRISTmas presents)

2) Fornicating outside of wedlock

3) Fornicating with myself

4) Watching other people fornicate

5) Thinking about fornicating with other people

6) Using Lord’s name in vain

7) Taking seconds when I’m not really that hungry

8) Saving money instead of giving it to people who are hungry

9) Sleeping in

10) Yelling at people

11) Thinking about how nice it would be if I had other people’s stuff

12) Competing with others to show that I’m better than them

13) Thinking I’m better than anyone else

14) Taking more than one of the free samples at the grocery store

15) Watching the food network

16) Watching the food network while fornicating

17) Keeping pets when there are people who are hungry (solution, feed pets to hungry people)

Don’t judge me.  I’m doing the best I can.  I’m a man, and nobody seems to be able to tell me what that means I’m supposed to do.

And doing is the one thing everyone does seem to agree I’m supposed to do.  But what?

Be strong. Be sensitive.  Be brave. Be fast. Be athletic. Be tough. Be mine. Be everyone’s.  Be a player.  Be a warrior.  Be a leader. Be a caricature of a God damned archetype that didn’t make sense a thousand years ago when some damn fool came up with it.  Measure up…

To whose expectations?

You want me to go get a job and suck it up and drive on and be miserable and isolated in rooms full of people?

You want me to hold and love and care and be available and listen and share and exactly where do you think I picked those skills up along the way?

I have emotions.  Lots of fucking emotions and the only outlet any of you ever showed me was angry.  Lots of emotions – one outlet.  FUCK!

You do realize that coaches don’t pat you on the back for playing patty cake, right?  Dad’s don’t get all excited when you put on mom’s makeup.  Nobody jumps for joy when you play with dolls… But give another kid a concussion (on the field of course we don’t want to raise barbarians) and you’re a fucking hero.

I WANT TO BE A FUCKING HERO!

I spend the first 25 years of my life getting rewarded over and over and over for being the toughest fastest meanest most flip most uncaring…

I don’t care what anyone thinks of me (but of course I care what everyone thinks of me).

And even as you tell me you want me to be kind and loving and caring and supportive… I know what will happen the second I show my soft spot.

Vulnerable is weak.  Weak is waiting to get hit.  Getting hit hurts. AND I HAVE A LOT OF EMOTIONS WITH ONE OUTLET!

Who do you think I am, man?  You think I rolled out of bed yesterday?  Millions of years of evolution and you think I don’t know that everyone on the planet is gunning for me?  Trying to knock me off of whatever little pedestal I’ve managed to scramble onto.

Why don’t you love me?  FUCK YOU why don’t you love me?  FUCK YOU and you and you and you and you and you.  why don’t you love me?

Trust?

You must be kidding.  I don’t trust anyone.

Go to work. Smile.  Be charming. Go home. Smile. Be charming.

FUCK YOU

Do you know what little boys do to each other?  They beat the hell out of each other.  Do you know how you don’t get the hell beat out of you?  You beat the hell out of someone else.

Go to work. Smile. Be charming. Go home. Smile. Be charming.

What is a man?

I AM SO ANGRY… I am so afraid