Thursday, December 18, 2014


I've no shortage of material.
Just motivation.
Its the simple act of sitting down and making my over large fingers find the absurdly small letters that make up words that I have a hard time with.
Perhaps they should make a FF Keyboard. FF being Fat Fingers.
I'm not saying that would make things easier, or even quicker, its the motivation.
How do you get motivated?
I just sort of wait until the words have percolated in my head and heart long enough to bubble over and then I type. Fat Fingers and all until I spew out something that seems to calm the storms of words that spin in my head. Constantly.
I've been told (and I agree) that I am more than a little bit crazy.
Crazy being the step away from the normals that make them nervous, or laugh, or cry.
Oh well.
Moving right along.
What shall I tell you? Because at heart, I am a storyteller. Whatever the medium. Words, film, song, life. I am a storyteller.
I tell stories.
I have found, makes the best stories. I may take a few liberties, a few similes and multiple metaphors, but the truth is always the best.
I don't lie.
Not deliberately.
I have always hope that the people who read my words will understand that, but according to my stat thingy the vast majority of my readers are from Russia and Germany so they probably think I am quite the liar.
Or an idiot.
It matters not.
I have got stories to tell, and i will.
If I do not, like an volcano. they sit. Bubbling inside the mountain of stone I claim for a noggin, and they pulse. Pushing at the surface until finally.
Mt Saint Tommy.
Ideas and words strewn every which way hither and yon, some landing on fertile ground but most polluting the green earth below.

I may have mentioned before that I talk to Fat Jack.
The Cat.
But for those of you coming late to the party, I talk to my cat. His name is Fat Jack and he sounds EXACTLY like James E Jones.
We had a conversation a while back. About life.
He has more scars and missing teeth then I, not many, but enough to put him ahead in the bad-ass competition.
I just have a better Dentist.
See, he had gotten in a fight with some thing bigger then himself. I wont say he lost, because when you fight at that level, if you're still alive its a win.
So, we were sitting there, Me on the porch steps, the Jack on my lap.
I was holding him down with one hand and pulling his splintered tooth out of its infected socket with pliers.
He was (understandably) upset at me.
We were arguing.
It went something like this
Me "You dumb ass! Quit fighting the damn Raccoons!"
Jack "mmmmmpgh yearowl fewuuuuck!"
Me "shit. Its out. Chill out you big wimp"
J "Damn. That one hurt (spits)"
Me "I'm telling ya, you're getting to old to keep this shit up"
J "Ha! That's the pot calling the kettle black"
Me "Whatever fuzzball"
J "Really? Cut your hair, quit fighting, get a real job, stop dreaming and.."
Me "Asshole"

Then he farted on me.

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

the #s swim with fish

We went on a cruise last year.
Yes, I have heard all of the negative things about them, seen all the videos and read all the articles about poo-cruises and the phantom (ITS NOT REAL!) cannibal rat ship.
Best vacation I have ever had.
It was a Disney cruise.
The kids had fun, the wife had fun, and honestly, I had one of the best times of my entire life.
Even with accidentally causing the entire cruise ship to embark a bit (two hours) late due to to a misunderstanding about a bullet, a security clearance and some scars.
Even with surviving a tropical storm (terrifying in hindsight) on key West.
Even staying the night in a very haunted hotel in a very racist little town that really should exorcise its ghost population and get the hell out of its pre-civil war mindset.
It was the most fun I have ever had.
We went to Disney's Private island. Its called castaway key.
We fed stingrays and a very large indigenous lizard. We got a little sunburned. We snorkeled. I got in lots of trouble because I swam inside the sunk submarine and made blowfish faces at my family.
We ate so much ice cream that we all lost weight.
The #s swam with the fishies.
Both my kids are excellent swimmers, as is my wife.
Me. Not so much.
And, I do not float. At all.
If I sit still in the water, stop flapping my arms and thrashing my legs, I sink as a stone sinks. Right to the bottom.
Its a side effect of having a solid noggin.
We were out, swimming in the lagoon of the private island.
Snorkels sputtering unheard laughter above our sunbaked backs.
Have you ever done this? Swam in water so clear that the glass of your goggles seems blurry by comparison?
Been surrounded by the three people you love most in the world whilst frolicking amidst harmless finny denizens of the deep?
Its a little bit of heaven.
More then a little.
So it should not have been a shock when a fish swam up to say high to the child #2.
Had it been one of the little colorful fluttery fishy dudes it would have been icing on the perfect cake.
Problem was. This dude was bigger then my child. A lot bigger.
Did you know that you can hear girls scream underwater?
Also, if you kick your fin thingies really super hard you can get your whole upper body right out of the water? Carrying your children?
But when you chuck them at the buoy with the lifeguard on it, the backlash pushes you pretty deep.
The lifeguard seemed to be screaming in terror.
The #s certainly were.
Laughter sounds a lot like screams underwater.
I guess there is this thing called a grouper?
Apparently its a large fishy.
Not a shark or killer whale or Justin Bieber fan, or leviathan.
A grouper.
Who knew?
Truly though, even after this.
Even after ten minutes later getting pulled out of the water by a real screaming lifeguard, howling something about "Moron Eels" Or Mayhap he Said "You MOron! Moray Eels will bite your HAND OFF" after I tried to pet the long skinny fishy thing.
Even then.
Best Vacation I ever had.