Monday

Nothing to report.

Update

Pleased to report that the thing with my jaw has improved a lot. It hasn't gone away completely, but it's much better than it was Friday and Saturday.

What's wrong now?!

I've been having this weird thing going on with my right jaw the past few days. It hurts when I open or close my mouth, and I can feel a kind of popping. But this discomfort subsides.

For example, when I eat, the first few bites are uncomfortable, but after that, it's pretty normal. Then, if I eat something else an hour later, or even yawn, it hurts again.

There doesn't seem to be any swelling anywhere.

I hate this kind of stuff, because I don't like going to doctors or dentists, but I also worry about it being some awful terminal condition.

It's always something with me. This is what I mean about my life being complicated. I'll lie awake all night worrying about this.

Too much

I know that from outward appearances, the biggest issue I face in life is which side of the bed to get up on every morning. But in fact, I have about as many personal things to take care of as I ever did, and although it's not much, it's more than I want to deal with.

Doctor appointments, vet appointments, tax issues all overwhelm me. I can't get myself motivated to take care of them.

I am too lazy and undisciplined to be a monk, but I certainly like the idea of being in that environment. Of course, I'd have to be around a bunch of other monks, and that would make me crazy.

Self and non-self

I'm having some second thoughts about the whole non-self thing, which is a central tenet of Buddhism. Mostly, I'm wondering what difference it makes. It appears to me that people who don't believe in a self live their daily lives about the same way as people who do believe in a self. The non-self still has to eat, sleep, shit and everything else the self has to do.

I've read some of the scientific 'evidence' supporting non-self, and it's about as sketchy as the 'evidence' for creationism.

I'm just not sure what difference it makes.

Another dream

Last night's disaster dream involved a nuclear explosion. I don't remember much about it. I was in a place that was safe from the blast, but I wasn't sure I would survive the fallout. I saw an animal vaporized by the blast... then I woke up.

Current music

I found this widget on last.fm that can show what music I'm listening to in more or less real time. It shows the music playing at the time you're reading the blog.

http://www.last.fm

Dog day off

I suggested to Ms. HRP that we expand the flower bed in the front yard, and presto! it's done. I should post pictures, and maybe I will.

Bailey is at her house tonight, and I am welcoming a peaceful, quiet evening. Bailey, meanwhile, gets to romp in Kelley's spacious back yard with Kelley's dog.

Twice in the past ten days I have had nightmares in which I was threatened by an approaching tornado. I started having these dreams while I was living in Texas. At first they seemed to come whenever I was struggling with an important life decision. But no such decision looms at the moment.

The Very Dark Room

I'm not in the Very Dark Room right now, but I wish I were.

Saturday Morning

It was nice to wake up to overcast skies for Bailey's morning walk. I get depressed if it stays cloudy over several days, but two or three cloudy days a week would always be welcome.

Friday

I spent a large part of Friday watching Ms. HRP turning over earth to expand the front yard flower bed. I continue to be amazed at how much energy she has. The work she did this morning would have taken me at least a weekend.

I am reading some books by the 20th century English philosopher who used the pseudonym Wei Wu Wei. I'm finding it pretty dry going. I'll report back if I find any gems of wisdom.

Thought about doing the Paseo Gallery Walk, but didn't have the energy. I stayed home instead.

You never know what's going to catch my attention

You may recall that Tom Selleck was originally cast as Indiana Jones.

Overwhelmed

The yellow kitten died last night. The good news is that the other two kittens - one black, one black and white - are in very good shape.

I'm starting to get a little overwhelmed again by the number of living things in my life: Ms. HRP, my ex, two kittens and their mom, Rollo and Bailey were all in or around the house yesterday. That's more company than I can handle. Bailey has to be the center of attention or she gets jealous and barks or pees on the floor.

Things will be quieter today.

Wednesday

As I expected after last evening's weedeating adventure, I spent all of last night and pretty much all of today feeling like my head was full of wet mud. I dragged around all day - slow even by my lethargic standard. I got almost no sleep last night, and dozed only a little this morning.

Ms. HRP came by to clean off my front porch and my ex came by to clean the bathroom. For me, watching someone clean is like watching someone dance ballet or perform gymnastics: I understand intellectually what is happening, but I can't duplicate it myself. Ms. HRP moves about in a flurry of activity, and the porch is magically clean. I move about in a flurry of activity, and nothing changes.

The plumbers were here, too, working on the garage. I'm going to move the washer and dryer out there, as I've probably mentioned before, and we're going to get a small 'instant on' hot water tank. I wash almost everything in cold water, so I don't expect the tank to use much energy.

Tuesday

Bailey started barking about 1 am and kept it up for about a half hour. She was in her crate, and I refused to acknowledge her. She eventually calmed down and went to sleep.

We did the morning walk about seven, then I went to the Egg for breakfast. Came home, went back to bed, and slept soundly until 11:30.

Woke up, went to KFC for lunch, then took Bailey for her midday walk and dosed the kittens with antibiotics.

Two of the kittens are doing very well, but the third seems to be failing. She appears to have stopped nursing, so I went to PetsMart and got some powdered kitten formula, and am feeding her myself.

Took an afternoon nap, then went in the back yard and ran the weedeater in a hard-to-mow space between the fence and the house. I'll probably spend the night in allergy hell for that.

The electrician returned to work on the garage today, but there still appears to be a lot left to be done. I didn't realize it would be this complicated.

I still have a touch of cold symptoms, but I'm not as bad as I expected to be.

In other news at this hour...

Up this morning at just a few minutes after 5 am, as her royal highness decreed a walk was necessary. I don't mind getting up that early for her, except that if I go back to bed afterward, she'll want another walk around 7. I never had a dog that needed to go out as often as this one. Her bladder must be the size of a thimble.

More wiring on the garage this morning. Then the plumber arrived and discovered the master panel or whatever it's called has been installed exactly opposite the shower. The shower connection and the wiring would be only a fraction of an inch apart. So they'll have to confer about the propriety of that arrangement.

Ms. HRP came over and weeded the front flower beds. She also pruned back some of the plants - something I would not have been able to do myself - and the front of the house looks much better. She said I seem to have gotten several seasons of growth in just one year, so these beds look like they've been here for years.

She also provides a certain amount of yang to my yin, which is also helpful.

I've been coughing the past couple of days. I had attributed that to allergies, but today I got that ticklish feeling in the roof of my mouth that often presages a cold. And tonight I have some minor body aches that are a little flu-like.

Blogblah!, I will make every effort not to die before we can meet. Of course, I may have infected you this morning. I wasn't feeling ill when we were talking - I didn't know anything was wrong.

I've been up since 5 and I had one snooze of maybe ten minutes, so I'm out for now.

When she said 'retired', I didn't realize she meant 'nuked.'

"Hi, Nina/Christina... it's me, God. Thought I might catch you at home. Just wanted to let you know how disappointed I was to find that you'd wiped your blog, Flibbertigibettibibbitybobbityboo.

"Even though I already knew all the stuff you were writing about - eye on the sparrow, and all - it was still amusing to read your take on it.

"I saw from your final post that you're doing Facebook now. Guess I'll have to look into that... I'm still just on myspace.

"Anyway, give me a call when you get this. Or text me.

"Ciaio."

Chop wood, carry water

Up just before dawn today to walk the dog. Then I planted two black raspberry plants, pulled up a dozen or so ragweeds, then cleaned and refilled all four of my big bird feeders. Added a small platform feeder which immediately attracted jays and cardinals.

I'm going to find something to eat, then dose the kittens.

Saturday night

I have nothing to report.

Random stuff of the past couple of days

A couple of nights ago Bailey growled at me when I tried to push her out of the middle of the bed so I could have some room. That's the end of Bailey sleeping in bed with me, and she's adapted quite well. I bought her a dog bed at PetSmart, pointed to it, and she hopped right in. She took to being crated right away, too. She's a pretty smart and good-natured dog, so the growling surprised me.

I went to the Paseo Arts Festival this past weekend, and bought two tall metal candle holders. I forget the artist's name, but he lives in Lexington. These holders are quite heavy, and have a low center of gravity, so they should resist being tipped over by wind. I'm going to use them in the back yard to hold oil lamps rather than candles.

I also bought a fused glass piece by Rick and Tracey Bewley, which will go in the house somewhere.

Almost three weeks ago, I dug up two plants in the back yard which appeared to have died during the winter. I left them lying on the ground, intending to throw them in the trash eventually. Lo and behold, both plants (of the same species) started putting out new leaves this week while just lying on the ground! I've replanted one and will replant the other in the next couple of days.

I'm looking forward to the garage being finished and the yard back to normal.

Another 'previous life' dream

Just woke up from another dream about my 'previous life.' I won't go into details. The main thing for me is that I have these dreams at all. I keep thinking I'm over them, then I have another one.

I once lived next to a retired postal worker who told me he still had nightmares about his job twenty years after he retired.

Monday evening

I am past due for posting pictures of progress on the garage. I will try to get some up this week. The framer got the garage doors pretty much finished, and I hope we'll have them hung by week's end. The electrician is scheduled to start wiring tomorrow.

Work inside the house has stopped, for a number of reasons. I have one really nice room, which is frankly as much as I need. Bailey, Rollo and I share it and seem comfortable. I may go forward with more rooms or I may not. I have little enthusiasm for this part of the project now.

If I can keep just one room clean and pleasant I'll be doing better than I've done in the past. And this room is so dark and so quiet it's just about perfect.

Happy

I am by nature not a cheerful person. I don't do 'happy.'

But there have been moments in my life when I was happy. What those moments had in common was that I was usually alone or with a single female companion (who may have been a romantic partner or a platonic friend); that there were few if any other people around; that we were outdoors; that we and our surroundings were calm and quiet.

We might, for example, have been taking a slow drive down a country road, or sitting on a bench at Lake Hefner. I've had similar happy moments, especially last fall and summer, sitting alone in my own back yard.

You may have other things that make you happy, but these are the things that make me happy, however boring or goofy they may seem. My mother, for example, couldn't begin to grasp the idea that a person could be happy without being drunk and surrounded by other drunks. I've known other people who simply had no personal life apart from OU sports or the Dallas Cowboys.

All of these experiences, including my own, share a common failing: they are all externalities which eventually end. Romances end, and eventually the time for romance passes. Pleasant autumn days give way to gray, cold winter days. Football season comes to an end. Eventually, you have to sober up, at least for awhile. And then your happiness, predicated on external, temporary conditions, fades.

I have not mastered the ability to find happiness within, free from outside influences. I hope someday I do, but I suspect I lack the DNA for happiness.

Which is not to say I'm miserable. Life is pretty good just as it is, and I'm mostly content.

Apropos of the previous post...

From Daily Kos: Two looks at our physical selves

For psychoanalyst Susie Orbach, the human body in the 21st century has become--as it clearly was for Delmore Schwartz when he penned "The Heavy Bear" more than forty years ago--a burden. "Our bodies," she writes, "no longer make things." They "are and have become a form of work. The body is turning from being the means of production to the production itself."

Another bitter, mean-spirited post

I hear people - artists, usually - talk about how the 'human body is beautiful.'

I suppose.

To me, the human body is a large slab of meat whose byproducts include shit, piss, pus, puke, phlegm, snot, sweat, toenails, methane gas and tiny flakes of dead skin. One of the first things a new community does (in modern times, at least) is build an underground infrastructure to carry away all the nasty stuff we produce so we don't have took at it, smell it, or think about it.

Artists talk about how beautiful the body is, but there's a reason Michelangelo didn't sculpt David sitting on the crapper and Botticelli didn't paint Venus changing tampons. If you're aware of any works by the Great Masters portraying someone with acne, let me know.

I understand some people are sexually aroused by shit and piss. To each their own. To my knowledge, though, no one is sexually aroused by pus or tiny flakes of dead skin, so maybe we need to open our minds more. Not that I've Googled those to be sure - nor do I intend to.

As I've said before, if someone could show me a way to detach my consciousness from my physical form and just float across the landscape like a cloud, I'd do it in a minute.

Oh - I forgot that crusty stuff on your eyelids when you wake up in the morning. But that's actually snot, isn't it?

Friday night

This has actually been a fairly eventful week, although some of what has transpired is probably better left unmentioned.

It has been a rough week for my allergies. I have an anti-allergen filter on the return for the AC, and another in the floor register in the bedroom. So the air is filtered going in to the AC, and further filtered coming out. In addition, there's a HEPA air purifier running full time. As a result, I can camp out in the bedroom and stay fairly comfortable.

But when I take Bailey out for her morning walk, I start sneezing. My eyes start to itch and water. And then I just feel like crap off and on for the rest of the day. I want to do even less than usual. This has also had the effect of making me irritable and cranky.

I wonder if the Buddha had allergies. I'm guessing he didn't.

Sunday night

The skylights have been installed in the roof of the garage. We had planned to install nine, but the installation requirements of the skylights themselves limited us to eight.

The carpenter is building the garage doors from scratch. These will be the old-fashioned carriage house-style doors that swing open. I've never been all that jazzed about overhead doors.

The siding is all up and the windows in. Shingles go on the roof starting tomorrow. Then we spray in insulation, install the toilet and shower and do the wiring.

Meanwhile, inside the house, the master bedroom is finished except for molding, and the back bedroom is almost done.

I have been planting and laying down brown builders' paper and mulch in the flower beds. I enjoy having nice flower beds, but I don't enjoy working in them. My sinuses swell up intermittently, and my eyes have been itching continuously for more than a week. They itch right now.

Friday night

Guess we're going to have more weather. Other than that, I have nothing to report.

Drapes

Ms. HRP and Bailey hung drapes in the master bedroom yesterday.

I love my dog...

...and my dog loves me.

The fork on the floor

Someone at the coffee shop brought up the 'fork on the floor' item I posted a few days ago. It appears further elucidation is needed.

What makes a fork a fork? I would say, and I think most would agree, that a fork is characterized by its handle and three or four tines that lift food.

A fork is not characterized by its location. A fork is still a fork whether it's in the silverware drawer, on the floor or up on the roof.

We fetishize eating utensils. I can get a plastic fork at KFC that is perfectly servicable. Or I can get a fork clad in some precious metal, which comes in a velvet-lined wooden box. And both are still fundamentally characterized by their handles and tines.

Where does a fork belong? And what do we mean by 'belong'? We might say, 'forks belong in the silverware drawer.' But according to what? Newton's law? Custom? Artificial imperatives created by the marketing departments of Martha Stewart Living and Bed, Bath & Beyond?

There's a lot of blind acceptance of the status quo here, folks. Let's not be afraid to challenge our closely-held beliefs. How else can we grow?

I'm kind of a homebody, but I'm not afraid to push the envelope when it's called for.

Friday night

Those Q-Tips were still in the wrapper.

I couldn't relate

An acquaintance of mine got married over the weekend. I didn't go to the wedding, but I looked at photos that friends posted online.

Somehow the emotions displayed in those photos seemed alien to me. Even though I've been married myself, I had difficulty relating to what I was seeing. There was a world there with which I could not identify.

Speaking of things to live for

...today I'm going to live for getting the dog a toy or two or three. She's gotten a little rambunctious now that she's settled in here.

Nothing to live for

About ten years ago, I found myself at a point where I felt I had nothing left for which to live. Looking back on it, I can see I was basically right: I didn't have anything to live for.

The choice I made then, although I didn't have it clearly delineated in my mind, was to simply live, rather than seek to live for something.

If my makeup in 1999 had absolutely required me to live for something - some external goal or cause or person - I guess I would have jumped off a window ledge, because I had absolutely nothing of that sort left. (Well, I had Beasley the cat, and he certainly counted for something.)

If you have to believe life has meaning, what do you do if that meaning is taken away? There's nothing you can have in this world that can't be taken away from you. (Except your delusions, which may help explain why some people cling so tenaciously to creationism and other myths. Maybe they feel like that's all they've got.)

I haven't acheived perfection in this business of simply living. I'm attached to my house and new garage. I always become attached to the animals around the house.

If there's anything in this life you worry about losing, I think you're living for something instead of living.

Two rooms

I've made no secret of the fact I'm a horrible slob as far as my home is concerned - my car, too, most of the time. Except for a brief period when I was about 12 years old, I've been that way all my life.

I think I mentioned this before, but I once dropped a fork on the floor of my den. It lay there literally for months. I must have looked at it a hundred times. But not once did the thought pop into my head, "Huh. What's that fork doing on the floor? I should pick that up and take it back to the kitchen." It wasn't a matter of putting it off; it was a matter of my not being able to see that the fork was out of place on the den floor.

After a half-century of being this way, I don't think it's reasonable to expect that I'm suddenly going to have some transformation that makes me a neatness freak.

Thanks to Ms. HRP, I now have two rooms in my house that are clean: walls freshly plastered and painted, floors newly stained and refinished. The challenge now is to keep these rooms clean, when not a single strand of my DNA inclines me toward tidiness.

I find myself occasionally looking around my bedroom to see if there's anything out of place I haven't noticed before. It's a matter of looking, for example, at the chair and saying, 'All right, what am I seeing here? There's a blanket in the chair, but that's for the dog, so that's OK. There's a sweatshirt hanging on the back. That should not be there; that should be with the laundry.'

I don't think I will be able to keep this up forever.

Just for the record...

I personally am not all that jazzed about nipple clamps. But your mileage may vary.

3:12 am

When I talk about my 'past life,' I mean my television career, not a past life in the reincarnation sense. It's just a euphemism.

Similarly, I use 'hit by an asteroid' as a euphemism for the end of humanity, which could be brought about by any of a number of means, or a combination thereof.

I admit I've been on the fence about the 'life is an illusion' thing. I used to believe life was a meaningless illusion, but lately I've begun to think it's a meaningless reality.

And if there's some meaning of life that is beyond my ability to perceive or even imagine, that might as well be no meaning.

But again, just because life has no meaning doesn't mean you can't enjoy a walk in the park, gourmet cupcakes, a Chopin nocturne or nipple clamps.

4:06 am

Awakened by another dream about my past life. I had not had one of these in weeks, and I thought maybe I was over them.

2:09 am

$%#@! dog.

Responses

To me, the danger of thinking one's own life meaningless is that it tends to make one believe that MY life is also meaningless. That may be, but I'm attached to it in a very un-Buddha-like way.

That definitely is a form of attachment from my point of view. But within Buddhism, there are some 'meanings' or 'purposes' which one may seek. Buddhist teachers warn against becoming attached, for example, to enlightenment as a purpose. There is also the Bodhisattva Oath, in which one pledges to devote one's life and future lives to seeking the enlightenment of all sentient beings. That also become a purpose or meaning.

The question that arises in my own mind about doing good or evil within the framework of a life without meaning is how do we know that what we do is either one. I may mean to be evil but do something that comes out well for other people and I may intend to do a kindness but cause much distress. As you say, do-gooders have brought their share of sadness into the world. We must nevertheless do something, else entropy kills us quickly -- pretty fast if we find it meaningless to get a drink of water every few days.

I deliberately used 'good' and 'evil' in a superficial way in my previous post. From a taoist perspective, and I think this is true in some other eastern value systems, good cannot exist without evil. It's considered an exercise in futility to try to eliminate evil. As for entropy, it's gonna get us one way or another. But I don't think finding life meaningless requires one to ignore basic health and safety.

One last question: why did you confine yourself to a single meaning? Might you have many meanings, the consequences of your acts unknowable by you? OK, that was two questions, but they're asking the same thing.

'Meaning' or 'meanings' - the difference is moot to me. One times zero or twenty times zero - the product is still zero. I could view myself as having a hundred meanings or a hundred purposes, and we'll still get hit by an asteroid.

however... it only makes sense when one chooses..to be alone... chooses unhappiness and has no connect with the past...or future... for mike this is it... nothing more... no love... no family... nothing... i suppose... it would be easier...and more comforting to think...that all life is meaninless...if i felt i was meaningless...
the funny thing is... mike lives life...meaningful.. compassionately... loving and kind... go figure...!!!

My view on this may be formed by my upbringing, but I can't say that for a certainty. Thank you for saying I live life compassionately and with love and kindness. I believe it is possible and even desirable to have those qualities. But a person can live life with love and compassion without saying, 'compassion is my purpose,' or, 'love is the meaning of my life.' These are elements of my life, and I hope I'm succeeding at them, but in the big, big picture, it doesn't matter whether I'm successful or not.

Seems to me that the whole meaning of your life is to convince others that it has no meaning.
I get it! Your life has no meaning. So stop blogging, stop facebooking, stop twittering, and stop telling others that their lives have no meaning because that would mean that you think your life is so meaningful that you have the right to tell someone else how meaningless their life is.
If your life has no meaning, by what authority do you tell others about theirs?

No authority whatsoever. It's just my opinion.

But something I want to make clear is that I don't think that believing life has no meaning requires one to sit absolutely still, doing nothing at all. If a person wants to do that, fine - the end will still come, whether we're active or quiet. But that means it's just as okay to be active as it is to be quiet. For the short term, I think it's better to be a good person than a bad one. We still have to live, however momentarily, with the consequences of our own actions as well as the actions of those around us. But again, in the big, big, picture, the point is moot.


PS: As I read my own writing, I feel like I'm usually expressing about nine-tenths of an idea, and there's always something missing. I don't know if that's because I can't articulate my thoughts clearly, or if I've just gotten so intellectually lazy in my advancing age that I can't or don't think things all the way through.

4:18 am

I want to respond to some of the previous comments when I'm back at the computer. Right now I'm in bed with the iPhone, and I just want to mention how much I'm enjoying the dark and the quiet. I'm not sure what's on iTunes, and I can't check without losing this post, but it's a raga played entirely on different sized tabla that play different notes.

Many people rely on drugs to escape reality. My drug is this dark, secluded environment I've created, with the music that removes me from my 'real' surroundings.

That tabla piece has ended and now I've got some classical Chinese erhi piece going.

How are things out in the world?

Life has no meaning

I've covered this ground before, but I've been asked about it lately, so let me mention it again: life has no 'meaning.'

Humanity came into existence however many millennia ago on this dirt spaceship, and will probably cease to exist without having ventured very far beyond it. We've been to the moon, and maybe we'll leave footprints on Mars, and we've lobbed a couple of tin cans out past the edge of out own solar system. But for all intents and purposes, we will live and die as a species on this same rock. And when we're gone, the galaxies will continue to spin and drift as they have for billions of years. A week after the last human has died, it will be like we were never here. Hell, it's like we were never here right now.

We talk casually about billion of years, but in fact, we can't begin to conceptualize how much time that is. Nor can we begin to conceptualize how big this universe is, and how small we are in comparison.

I believe in what Alan Watts called the 'theory of the automatic universe.' "If this is what you believe," he said in one of his talks, "you may as well kill yourself right now."

Well, this is what I believe, but I don't understand why it necessarily follows that I should kill myself. I considered it a relief, not a soul-crushing realization, when I finally came to believe that I had no 'higher purpose.'

I have also been asked, "Well, if life has no purpose or meaning, why not just be an asshole? Why not just steal and kill and rape and plunder?" To which I can only respond, "Huh? If life has no meaning, why not help other people and do good? In the big picture, it won't make a dime's worth of difference, but it's just as easy to do good as it is do harm."

In fact, if you look at history, you'll see that some of the worst shit ever done on this planet was done by people who thought their lives had a purpose and a meaning.

No, my life has no meaning. Please don't think one up for me.

iTunes: Schubert: String Quartet #13, "Rosamunde" - The Brandis Quartet

I'll be inside my own head, if anyone needs to contact me.

iTunes: Boccherini: Cello Concerto in G, Yo-Yo Ma, Ton Koopman and the Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra

Garage update

Work commenced at 7:30 am Saturday... and by 4 pm Saturday it looked like this:

and by 1 pm Sunday, it looked like this:

There's a small bathroom, connections for the washer and dryer and lots of windows. The windows are not just to let light into the garage. I also wanted to break up the space on the west wall so there wouldn't be a big blank wall sort of looming over the back yard.
If you remember pictures of the old garage, it was actually just a shed. I couldn't even get a car into it - it was too shallow from front to back. A VW would have fit, but my minivan - not a large vehicle - stuck out the door when the front bumper was against the back wall. It had no electricity - well, it sort of had electricity, but it was an accident waiting to happen, pulling power from an extension cord run to the back porch.
This garage will have outlets everywhere. All my battery chargers, rechargeable power tools and other similar stuff will go out here, freeing up outlets in the house for appliances. With the washer and dryer out here, I'll be able to use the back porch as a porch again, instead of using it as a cramped utility room.

Lumber arrives

Here's the lumber for the new garage arriving.

Framers start work in the morning.

PS...

iTunes: Weiss: Lute Sonata #27, performed by Robert Barto.

Before I got the queen size bed, I slept on a mattress on the floor for almost ten years.

In a way, I miss my futon.

As mentioned previously, I am back in my bedroom, sleeping on the queen size bed I bought in 1984. I paid a lot of money for it, but it was well-spent: twenty-five years later, the mattress and springs are like new.

But in a way, I miss the ratty futon upon which I had slept for two or three years before abandoning it a few days ago. It was in awful shape, with a torn and shredded cover partially covered by a torn and shredded bedsheet. It was frequently littered with crumbs, used tissues and paperback books. It looked like something you'd expect to find in a Symbionese Liberation Army safe house forty or so years ago.

And it was in the dining room, separated from the living room by a wooden folding screen. I'd wrap up in a blanket, unless it was very very warm. Beasley and Smudge would sleep there with me, when they were still here. (And I think about them every day.)

Now I'm back in my very nice queen-sized bed, in my newly-plastered and freshly-painted bedroom. And there's plenty of room here for Rollo and Bailey.

But part of me misses the futon. Part of me likes the clutter, the crumbs, the worn and ripped fabric. I've had some amateur therapists tell me I surround myself with clutter to keep other people away. I suppose that could be true.

How am I supposed to get any sleep...

...when this dog keeps squirming all the time?

Living arrangements

Basically, I don't need a lot of space in which to live. I need a lot of storage space for the junk I've accumulated, but for me personally, a couple of rooms are adequate.

I've been living, for all intents and purposes, in my den and dining room for two or three years. That's been plenty of space.

But the changes Ms. HRP is making will shift my daily living to the den, front bedroom and back bedroom. I will still rarely, if ever, use the living room.

We've talked about changes to the other, lesser-used rooms. The dining room especially needs work, and she's suggested changes to the living room as well.

But for what I've spent on this house over the past year, including the work outside, I could have almost bought a new house. Nothing I've done is extravagant, but none of it has been done on the cheap, either.

I have to think about costs for the rest of these projects, and I'm not sure if I can afford to do much more.

Ms. HRP has raised the issue of me hosting social gatherings at my home. I have done that twice in my entire life - once in 1998 and once in about 1979. I have no need to plan for an active social life, because I would still be mostly a recluse even if I were a billionaire living in the Nichols mansion.

iTunes: Raga Alahya Bilaval, G S Sachdev

What I want and need is a home that supports one adult male, one cat and one basset hound, with some room for a few hangaround cats. It needs to facilitate some semi-artistic doodling, plus reading, sleep and some not very disciplined meditation.

You are not what society says you are (or must become)

"The rules of communication are not necessarily the rules of the universe, and man is not the role or identity which society thrusts upon him. For when a man no longer confuses himself with the definition of himself that others have given him, he is at once universal and unique."

- Alan Watts, 'Psychotherapy East & West.'

iTunes: Year Tone - OM, Rainer Tillman performing with Tibetan bowls

Another great thing about dogs...

...is that if they pee in the house, they pee right in the middle of the floor, where you can get to it. Cats always pee back in a closet or behind furniture.

iTunes: Jimbo Sanya - Stan Richardson, shakuhachi flute

Saturday morning

I had the notion that I was going to get out and do something last night - either dinner with the Galileo group, or the Amber Wind Society/Skip Largent event at Sauced - but by the time five pm arrived, I was no longer up to it. I had driven around all day buying stuff for the house. I had a mild headache. All I wanted to do was go home, read some, and listen to classical music. And that's what I did. I guess I was in bed by 9:30.

This dog is spoiled rotten, but I enjoy her company.

iTunes: Shostakovich: Symphony #15, Mariss Jansons & The London Philharmonic Orchestra

Friday

Another day in paradise.

An idea

I guess one way to take care of cat pee odor in the laundry would be to smear my clothes with dog shit - which is also in ample supply now.

Random stuff

First, to respond to Sweeney's comment on the previous post: I've been using the enzyme stuff on the floors for awhile and yes, it works. I'm going to try the vinegar in laundry.

Item two: concrete will be poured for the floor of my garage tomorrow-a big step forward in this project that began last October.

Item three: I continue to withdraw from society. I'm eating three-fourths of my meals alone now, and conduct most of my communication via facebook. I'm spending a lot more time at home. Again, this is actually a return to the norm for me, not a new development.

Item four: I'm sleeping in the master bedroom again. Ms. HRP has started work on the back bedroom, which we're turning into a kind of study/meditation room.

There is still too much stuff in this house, even after all the stuff that's been given away and thrown away. I need to cut the remaining possessions by at least half.

Item five: Bailey is up here on the bed with me, sound asleep. When she sleeps, she really sleeps. Rollo will probably be along later. Bailey is whiny and stubborn, but lovable nonetheless. I'm glad she's here.

Item six: I am nowhere near the fires you may have seen on TV. Everything's fine where I am.

The Search for Truth

...has taken me here.

I hope this works.

Wednesday afternoon

I'm a laugh riot.

The 'real' bed

I slept in my 'real' bed overnight (as opposed to the futon in the dining room) for the first time in two or three years. Bailey slept with me, and even Rollo came and got on the bed. Now there's plenty of room for both of them.

The bedroom is in better shape than it's ever been: newly-refinished floor, retextured and repainted walls and ceiling, all provided by Ms. HRP.

There's no furniture in the room except the bed and a small table, and I think I want to keep it that way. I have plenty of art to hang on the walls, but I think I prefer them blank. It's pleasant having a room with almost no visual clutter or stimulus. It's almost like being in a hotel.

Now that I think about it, I realize what I liked about hotel rooms was the absence of clutter.

Sunday evening

What is there?

Sunday morning

I love my dog.

Compassion and crazymakers

Mindovermary reports she has ejected her friend from her home after only four days, rather than the agreed-upon two weeks.

A smart move, I think.

Buddhism exhorts us to be compassionate toward others. I mentioned previously that my idealized, unrealistic perfect female companion would be someone possessing the qualities of Guan Yin, the Chinese representation of the Bodhisattva of Compassion.

Compassion is necessary. But we still have to take care of ourselves - especially, I think, those of us who live alone and who have a limited support network.

Some readers will recognize the story of the fellow who eventually moved out of his own house because a friend he let move in 'temporarily' brought friends and family members to live there, too. That's right... the guy moved out of his own house to get away from the people who took advantage of his considerable compassion.

There are people who are constant psychological and emotional drains. The first time I encountered the term 'crazymakers' was in Julia Cameron's book The Artist's Way. There's a blog dedicated to that book's principles and concepts, with a page about crazymakers here.

Crazymakers are those personalities that scream storm centers. They are often charismatic, frequently charming, highly inventive, and powerfully persuasive.
Crazymakers break deals and destroy schedules.
Crazymakers expect special treatment.
Crazymakers discount your reality.
Crazymakers spend your time and money.
Crazymakers triangulate those they deal with.
Crazymakers are expert blamers.
Crazymakers create dramas but seldom where they belong.
Crazymakers hate schedules except their own.
Crazymakers hate order.

(I notice, of course, that I fit some of those descriptions. I'm adept at discounting other people's realities, and while I wouldn't say I hate order, I don't exactly embrace it, either.)

I personally am big on avoiding crazymakers. I can usually just get up and walk away. Maybe if I were big 'E' Enlightened, I could deal with people like this and raise them to some higher level of awareness. But I am a flawed vessel living in a house full of junk and pet hair; it's too much of a struggle to keep my own sanity without trying to 'fix' crazymakers as well.

As Melvin Udall said in As Good As It Gets, "Go sell crazy someplace else – we're all stocked up here."

(And here's the official web site for The Artist's Way. I think this book and its companion books stay in print pretty much continuously; you could probably find it in any major bookstore, if you're interested.)

Early Tuesday

Bailey is doing a doggie sleepover tonight with Lucy at Ms. HRP's. It's just me and Rollo and whatever hangaround cats come wandering in.

I spent some time with Nurse K and Ms. HRP today, after spending about three days with no contact with anyone (other than cashiers and wait staff). I've been pretty much out of contact with world for most of the past five days, and have found it very relaxing and de-stressing.

I read MindoverMary's post about her friend who has temporarily (heh) moved in with her to escape a crazy, abusive boyfriend. No one has ever asked to move in with me (I wonder why - do you suppose it could be the cat shit?), but this is exactly the kind of drama I don't want to be near, let alone be participating in. I hide from this kind of stuff.

I used to think I was a screwup because I couldn't fit in with the rest of society. Lately, I've begun to think I'm the one who's sane, and everyone else is crazy. Yes, I know I'm surrounded by cats and cat shit and nose spray bottles, but no one gets beaten up at my place, no one passes out drunk in my front yard, nor are the police ever called to my home. I've never been put in jail.

I could list a whole bunch of other things that haven't happened to my dull, boring ass, but other people might recognize themselves or their friends, so I'll spare them the embarrassment.

I truly do not understand how people can live that way, although it seems to go on all around me. The very thought of it unnerves me.

Solitude is a blessing.

iTunes: Schubert: Impromptu in G flat - Martijn Van Den Hoek, piano

Sleep

The cat fidgets all night. The dog barely moves at all.

This dog is like a thirty-pound sack of potatoes.

Sunday am

What is there?

I'll be around

Please, don't anyone else call me. I'm fine. I'll be around.

Speaking of negative emotions...

I'm often a generator of negative emotions, so you may want to read that link in the preceding post for tips on how to deal with me.

Negative emotions

A few weeks ago, Ms. HRP gave me a printout of a web page about how to stop being affected by other people's negative emotions. I lost the printout, of course, but I remembered one phrase: "envelope of white light." So I did a Google search for that phrase plus the word 'emotions,' and the web page I was looking for was at the top of the list.

How To Stop Absorbing Other People’s Negative Emotions

Another day of nothin'

I saw almost nobody today. My garage guy came by to pick up some equipment he'd left. I went to the grocery store and bought some stuff to tide me over in case I'm snowed in tomorrow. Later in the day I went to Smokey's and got barbecue.

I walked the dog a couple of times.

I searched - unsuccessfully - for the remote control for the stereo, which I have already misplaced, and which I hope I didn't accidentally throw in the trash.

I took a nap.

Right now, I'm listening to Shostakovich's Symphony #13.

Dog diet

I gave Bailey a steak bone the other night, and while she was glad to get it, her digestive tract seems the worse for the experience. She hasn't had the runs, exactly, but more like a case of the 'squishies' for about 36 hours. She's also had a couple of accidents in the house during this time.

Bailey is making lots of friends. Almost every time I take her for a walk, someone stops to pet her. She loves people and she loves attention, so that's working out well for everyone.

Snow storm

According to the weather forecasters, we're on the south edge of some ginormous winter storm that's going to cover the northwest half of the state in up to a foot of snow. Blizzard warnings are in effect in the panhandle and northwest. That area's pretty remote - I'd hate to be stuck under a foot of snow out there.

I'm trying to decide if I need to go to the store today and stock up on some sort of supplies.

Link spamming

About three times a week, I have to delete three or four 'link spams' from the blog. These are comments, usually unrelated to the post to which they're attached, that include a link to some quasi-reputable web site. Seeding blogs with these links help boost a site's Google ranking. I assume some so-called 'search engine optimization' company pays people some paltry sum to spend hours a day dropping these linked comments all over blogs.

This has been going on pretty regularly for about six weeks now. I don't want to begin moderating comments, but I may have to, at least temporarily.

What I believe

I've had this idea for awhile that I should 'codify' my beliefs... sort of a "Mcarpene Creed", if you will.

But what would I get from that? Maybe I'll just walk the dog, instead.

Calm

I thought I'd take a moment to post about what a pleasant week I've had. And I've spent it mostly alone and mostly at home. I've been to the coffee shop a few times, and to VZD's once, but for the most part, I've avoided my usual haunts. (I don't consider Jimmy's Egg a 'haunt,' although I eat there pretty often. I tend to be in and out pretty quick.)

I've listened to a huge amount of classical music, including, for the first time, Glenn Gould's "Goldberg Variations" performances. The new stereo makes some of my other CDs sound like completely new works. This is especially true of Ravi Shankar's "Chants of India," in which I hear voices that didn't even show up with my old speakers. Right now I'm listening to Tchaikovsky's 'Marche Slave,' performed by Karajan and the Berlin Philharmonic.

I've done some housecleaning and gotten mostly caught up on laundry. I've walked the dog two or three times a day.

I've been reading some books by Steven Batchelor, Ajahn Chah and DT Suzuki.

I've located some old friends - people I haven't talked to in ten to twenty years - on Facebook.

I've taken naps in the afternoon.

Everything has been very calm and pleasant. I feel like this validates my decision to scale back my busy schedule of public appearances and spend more time with myself.

Sunday evening

Nothing to report

Stereo

I bought a new stereo setup today - the first new one in, oh, 35 years. My ex still has my old one, in fact.

This is a more modest setup than the one I got back in the seventies. It's just a receiver and a pair of speakers. I put all my music on iTunes, so I don't need a CD player.

The receiver is a Yamaha home theater thing with about two hundred features I'll never use. All I really needed was a power amp or maybe an integrated amp; most of the digital signal processing stuff doesn't interest me. But the plain old amps are hard to find (and I didn't limit my search to big box retailers), and tend to cost as much or more.

I had been listening to music on high-end self-powered computer speakers, and the chamber music and Asian flute music were tolerable. But symphonies and other big-orchestra pieces sounded choked. Everything sounds much better now.

When I retired, I set some budget goals for myself. I haven't come close to meeting them, and my cash reserves have shrunk faster than I planned. Austerity will have to be the watchword from here on out. I already own more crap than I can fit in my house - cutting back shouldn't be a problem.

Big news today

They poured the concrete foundation for my new garage today.


This is a big step forward. They'll do the stem wall tomorrow, I'm told, and build the actual garage in a week to ten days.

Tuesday

Nothing to report. Happy St. Patrick's Day.

Culture Warriors Laid Off

from NYT's Frank Rich...

Here, at last, is one piece of good news in our global economic meltdown: Americans have less and less patience for the intrusive and divisive moral scolds who thrived in the bubbles of the Clinton and Bush years.

Sat night/Sun morn

Ms. Dog and I are both under the fuzzy red blanket. We're calm and at peace.

Two strange phenomena

Two strange phenomena occurred here this evening.

The first phenomenon was that I found myself walking down an aisle in Target with no recollection of having gone there. I assumed I had driven there, but I had no memory of having done it. It was almost as if I had come into existence at that exact moment.

I assumed I would find my car in the parking lot, and sure enough, I did. I didn't buy anything.

The second phenomenon was that after I got home, I found the toilet paper on the roller set into the wall. I never put toilet paper on the roller, but there it was, just as if it had always been there. I know some people make a sort of ritual of putting TP on the roller. I assume it helps preserve the illusion they have some control over their lives: "See? I've put the toilet paper in its place on the roller. I'm in charge. I make the decisions."

But, I know that life is lived on the ever-shifting sands of impermanence, so I don't worry about the toilet paper being on the roller. As long as it's within reach, I'm fine. Plus, I avoid that whole over/under thing.

And the shower curtain was hanging outside the bathtub. I'm glad I found that before I took a shower in the morning.

There seems to have been an odd shifting of the fabric of reality around here.

Complications

I know it does not seem to most people like my life is very complicated. But it is to me.

My ability to multitask, never very strong, has diminished to nothing. So has my ability to plan, or even to think clearly. There are posts that have never appeared here because I started to write them, realized I didn't have the energy or motivation to organize my three or four paragraphs of thoughts, and gave up.

And for the most part, I don't care. I don't need to think much anymore, or organize or plan.

I had to take the dog out for a 1:40 am doggie dump. I sort of know I need to start feeding her on a schedule, but the concept seems kind of fuzzy and indistinct. I have to feed her earlier in the day, and at the same time every day. That means I have to keep track of what time it is. That's a complication, looking at a clock all the time. Plus the usual chore of finding the bowl, finding a scoop for the dog food... more complication. Can't think about it.

I'm sort of regressing into a hunter/gatherer. Or really just a gatherer. I can forage, but that's about it.

I went to the coffee shop yesterday. Walked in, sort of vaguely waved at a table where some of my friends were sitting, then left. I wasn't there two minutes. Too many people, too many conversations. Too complicated.

A couple of my friends are infuriated by the way I drive. The way I drive is this: get in the car, start driving, then formulate a plan about how I'm going to get there. This means that many times, by the time I have sorted out where my next turn is, I have already passed it. One time I overshot my own driveway by a block. I don't care; I'll get there eventually. But other people find it maddening. Sometimes I get in the car and start going without knowing where I'll end up. Again, this doesn't bother me; I know I'll end up somewhere. It made my ex-wife crazy.

Drive faster! Don't stop! Turn the heat on! Slow slow, quick quick! Get rid of that cat hair! Move to Edmond! Why aren't you a Republican? Focus! Why are you wearing that? Be more accessible! Look urgent! Don't sit with your arms folded! Why aren't you saved? Why aren't you in Al-Anon? You and your Moon Pies! Acknowledge your coanchor! Study! Have you done your homework? You need to wear your hair like your daddy!

Folks, this is me. This is it. All there is. I'm not deliberately concealing some advanced mutant power that allows me to be more like you.

I don't want to think anymore. I've had enough thinking.

I've been kind of a shithead today...

...frankly.

All this dog wants to do is sleep

...thank god.

Bailey pix

Since the first effort didn't work, here's another attempt:

Being alive

I'm not saying being alive is a good thing or a bad thing. It is simply the state of affairs in which I currently happen to find myself.

Photo

I'm adding this from the phone. Let's see if it works.

Some developments

I have a dog - a year-old Basett hound named Bailey. That was the name her previous owners gave her, and it's good enough for me.

I'm on the iPhone right now, so no pix, but I'll post a couple later. I posted a couple on Facebook, if you know how to get there.

One of my FB friends commented, "Are you serious? Do you realize you have animals that are JUST LIKE YOU?"

Well, we seem to be compatible. She's curled up beside me on the bed right now. (I originally wrote 'curled up beside me in bed,' but that seemed a little - twisted, for some reason. We're not that compatible.)

Much progress has been made in the master bedroom. The walls and ceiling have been textured by Ms. HRP with an assist from her oldest son. We may buy new crown moulding today.

I have been absent from my usual hangouts and spending more time at home.

All is calm and quiet.

Crowds

I know I'm restating what I've said previously, but it's getting harder and harder to be around groups of people. I find myself joining a group of friends or acquaintances, then bailing out after only a few minutes.

I'm still fine with one or two friends, but beyond that, I start to feel overwhelmed.

My house is a mess, but it's quiet and I have the space all to myself.

It's still dark out, and I'm wrapped in the fuzzy red blanket, and it feels great. Warm, quiet, calm.

Today's objective update

Today's objective was, unfortunately, not accomplished.

We've rescheduled for tomorrow.

Today's objective

...is to take down the ceiling fan in the bedroom.

But first, a nap.

I don't get it.

Sorry, but I don't. I'm at home with my cats and my music. All is calm at this location.

Brain-fried

I spent Friday night at home alone. I let myself get too overexposed to humanity in the previous days and I needed some time to recuperate.

A couple of years ago, I posted a link to a series of photos of a cat sitting in an apartment window watching a bird sitting on the balcony rail. Each photo was accompanied by a mocking statement from the bird.

In one photo, the bird says, "You couldn't handle it out here. It's too crazy." Well, that's how I feel. I can't handle it out there. It's too crazy.

I don't mean to be rude, but you humans confuse the hell out of me.

The Dalai Lama and me

I took an online political test called "The Political Compass" Wednesday evening.



That's my result. I am in almost in exactly the same spot as HH the Dalai Lama, based on his public statements.

You can take the test, and compare yourselves to world figures (and me) here.

Ethereal, part 3

Ms. HRP read my previous two posts on being 'ethereal' and said, "So, what you're looking for is someone who's spaced out."

Well, um... yeah. I guess that kind of covers it.

More on being ethereal

I've broken a promise to myself with these posts. I had made a commitment not to bring this matter up on the blog again for a considerable length of time, but here I am writing about it again.

I want to reiterate the point is moot. There may still be some part of me that wants romance in my life, but the reasoning part of me says my interests are unrealistic to the point of being fantasy, and the spiritual part of me says peace and serenity can me found only on a path leading in another direction.

But since we're talking about fantasy, let's go ahead and fantasize a little. I'm thinking of someone whose interests and thoughts are rarely focused on the so-called 'real world.' That doesn't necessarily mean new age or UFO stuff, since I'm skeptical about both, but it does mean her awareness extends beyond the usual local cultural realm of OU football, American Idol and celebrity gossip, and she's not at all emotionally or intellectually plugged in to that stuff.

Most of the daily stuff going on around her doesn't ruffle her. In fact, she's pretty much imperturbable. She sees phenomena for what they are.

Emotionally, she's pretty low-key. She's never really angry or indignant, nor is she ever enthusiastically cheerful.

She doesn't talk much.

She's a lot like me, in short, only not as grumpy or cynical.

She's looking for a spiritual companion more than someone who fits the conventional description of 'boyfriend.'

She likes animals and kids.

She has about her the aspect of the Bodhisattva of Compassion, although she may not be a fully enlightened person. She's nominally a Buddhist or Taoist, although she may not be a rigorous adherent to forms of practice.

She's a creative person.

I guess that's pretty much the list.

But again, this is just an unproductive fantasy, not an actual goal. The peace I seek will have to be found within me. No one else can bring it to me.

What do you mean by 'ethereal'?

Ms. HRP reads my blog, of course, and sometimes asks me questions about it. Today she asked me, "What do you mean by 'ethereal'?"

She was referring to my frequent posts about looking for an ethereal, gauzy, hippie chick by whom I could be infatuated.

OK, here's the deal: I don't know how to describe it, but I know it when I see it. I've met two women in maybe the past ten years who would qualify in my book as ethereal, or at least partly ethereal. They were both artists, and one was also a musician. Both had a spiritual bent, one Buddhist and one Christian. But they also conveyed this sense of being only loosely tethered to the earth. They were spiritually pretty well grounded, or so they seemed, but I had the sense that a stiff breeze might send either of them drifting away like dandelion seeds, gracefully and serenely floating over lawns and gardens.

Now, personally, I'm about as ethereal as room-temperature oatmeal. If they drifted like dandelion seeds, I'd tumble along like a KFC bucket that had blown out of someone's trash can.

So, perhaps ethereal isn't a good match for me. But as I always say, we can't help the kinds of people to whom we are attracted.

The point is, in any event, moot.

27 degrees

I guess it's still winter. Eric the Viking reports that up in MO, he and Leslie are snowed in at the ranch.

Random thoughts

As I first said years ago, I would rather be lonely than be crazy.

I'll add that I need wisdom more than I need, well, pretty much anything, except food and water.

And nose spray. But that doesn't mean I'm addicted.

Paul Harvey

Paul Harvey is dead at the age of 90. I suppose I should look at him as a role model, in that he remained active right up until the end of his life.

Instead, I find myself thinking, '90?! That would be another 35 freakin' years for me!'

I don't know how old I want to live to be, but I'm pretty sure I don't want to be that old.