- Home > Archive: May, 2016
Grandpa delighted in the soul crushing hand shake.
He took particular pleasure in it.
After a while, you knew it was coming, but you just went played along.
Smiled and held on as long as you could.
Felt the joints of your hand squeezed painfully together.
Forever creating disdain for men with dead fish handshakes.
Jack is Ruth’s son.
Grandpa is her father.
We start to see what Jack is up against.
And, no that’s not John Wayne Gacy.
Mikio was in the latter part of middle age.
Waiting on the light.
Night had turned to morning a bit too slowly.
He shivered in the cold.
Nothing in the world is softer and weaker than water.
But there is nothing better for brining down mighty stone and mountain.
It’s also pretty good for the garden.
Mikio spends a lot of time in the garden and in the kitchen.
There’s a good chance food will be involved.
“Live each day like it’s your last, and eventually, you’ll be right.”
Empty chairs at the table.
Once filled with voices of children and forks clinking.
No more fights over who will do the dishes.
Odd to miss that.
It’s mortality, lately.
Not afraid, just wanting to make the most of what’s left.
Pretty self explanatory. Eventually we all become aware of our mortality.
It’s not such a bad thing if it makes you appreciate what you have.
The spirits had spoken to both competing sisters.
The instructions were clear.
Prepare for the end of days.
Gather firewood and canned food.
Leave Mickey in Brooklyn.
Tell him you’ve had enough, that you are taking the children to a shelter.
Then take a Greyhound to Orlando.
This comes directly from “Spirit”, not from us.
We meet Mickey. And things immediately get interesting.
Maria, the mother of his kids, is close to her family.
And, as you can see, they got caught up in that whole year 2000 end of the world nonsense.
I got this thing that tells me I need a Winnebago.
When I have that, everything will be cool.
I won’t have to pay rent.
No one can tell me what to do.
I can work when I want to and not have to be Mr. Perfect all the time.
I’ll drink whenever I’m thirsty.
The term “running amok”, apparently comes from the Malay language and translates to epic craziness against people or objects by one individual followed by a period of brooding (remorse perhaps?).
It’s actually a syndrome found in the DSM-4 (The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders).
So there’s a diagnosis code for Amok. If you were a doctor, you could bill for it and insurance might just cover your patient’s spree.
I could be wrong, but it appears that alcohol may be involved in this particular example.
When selecting a superhero, here’s a few important things:
Too much power is always a disaster.
Some Degree of Mixed Breeding.
Half mutant is always good.
An Absurd Power or Two.
Like little wings on the ankles.
We like that.
Ambiguous Hero/Villiain Status.
Aren’t we all just a little conflicted?
I have no explanation for this one.
Just had the idea, thinking about why I like the Submariner and then had some fun with it.
Literally ripped from the neurons, where it has lived for years.
It’s still just fiction.
Yes, some of it may be based on something.
But, like most memories, it has been rebuilt, embellished and things have been changed.
Your, too, are not free of invention.
As Ruth is fond of saying, “It’s all an illusion.”
It’s all a fiction, which is written by your perception of what’s going on around you.
This, in turn, is influenced by your automatic thinking (default neural pathways).
Unless, of course, you live in a war zone, in which case you’re probably being forced to live someone else’s interpretation of events.
And that could be a dark narrative.
But Ruth doesn’t live in a war zone. She’s fortunate.
Sometimes you can just pretend things away.
The debts, out of sight out of mind.
The ex, never happened the way she portrayed it.
The children, they’re exceeding expectations.
The illness, your spirit can never be defeated by it.
Asked with concern, “How are you doing?”
“I don’t know, you tell me, you’re the doctor.”
I guess that could be called denial.
Though this person is asking the doctor for a reality check.
Is that a joke? Asking the doctor to tell him how he’s feeling.
Not quite brown.
And not really green.
A little abstract painting in each one.
Intelligent and plaintive.
Saw a tear leap out like a fish jumping.
Yet joy is clearly visible when you smile.
Could spend all afternoon and evening,
looking for a place to rest inside them.
Quiet when you gaze back at me.
Experimenting with that digital camera again. Love the way it creates distortion with movement. Hazel eyes are beautiful. I’m actually thinking of another character here, but we’ll wait to introduce her. It’s enough to see how much she is adored.