A recent post got a bit of notice. It’s nice to get extra hits. However, it made me reflect on how brutally social media and propaganda have kneecapped everyone and especially their merciless hammering at susceptible people.
Folks like 357 Magnum and Bayou Renaissance Man have already staked their claim in that sphere of existence which suits them. Me too. We’re already living; with all the risks and joys and sorrows and chaos and fulfilment that comes with it. We may have arrived that way through experience or philosophy or religion or practice but we got there. Hell, I’ll howl at the moon non-ironically if I feel like it. Even as society crawls up its own ass, I’m as free as possible within the world as it is.
Not everyone is like that. I get it. For some, taking that first step is not a small thing.
Despite being a loner, I’m right now reaching out. If you need a little positivity and aren’t ready to do so on a public blog’s comments, you may privately e-mail me. I have an “About” page. There’s an e-mail form there (it probably works). My e-mail address is also on the page. If you aren’t seeing the sun through the clouds, I will listen. I ‘aint going to fix your shit, but I will listen. Maybe that will help.
This is different from comments; they go public. That’s always open to you as well.
This is for the folks that are not making the journey on their own… maybe they could but need a little friendly encouragement. So long as you see that a journey exists, you’ve got a good shot. If you’re in the throes of COVID terror and wonder if it’s bullshit; e-mail me. If NPR has your gluten free knees quaking over your hemp sandals and you wonder if there’s a better way; e-mail me. If you’re trapped in a life that’s bounded and colorless and without challenge or merit… maybe you need to build a boat… either figuratively or a real damn boat… e-mail me. If you want something different but haven’t the slightest idea how to get there… don’t curl up in a ball and wet yourself… e-mail me.
It’s important to pull out of the dive. Soon. Right now if possible. Not tomorrow, not next week. Now! It’s hurting you. It’s meant to hurt you. It’s not in your best interests to let social engineering vote farmers render you limp and hopeless. If you can read my blog without passing out, you’ve already got the spark. You can adapt and overcome.
One note: I’m not a counselor. I’m not your best friend. If you want a hug, you probably should get a puppy. Don’t pin hopes on some internet blogger that he’ll drag you kicking and screaming over the path you need to walk on your own two feet. I’m only willing to listen. But lets face it, that ‘aint nothing! Most people don’t converse with you, they talk at you. I can do better than that!
If you’re in a hole, stop digging. If you’re drowning, start swimming. If you’re afraid to leave the house, you don’t have to stay that way. If you’re exhausted by the bullshit, spit it out. If the mask people, and the television freakouts, and the dipshits at work or school are pulling you down… standing on your hind legs and making your own choices will probably help. Maybe thinking your way to that potential future needs a sounding board.
I’ll try to be the ray of fucking sunshine you might need.
I’m the least among many superior options. I’m probably the dumbest place to turn. But I won’t laugh at you. I get it. I’ve probably had similar thoughts. Maybe you live in a neighborhood that’s inches from Kristallnacht or perhaps don’t even know what Kristallnacht means but get the hint that things feel dark. Maybe the HOA has been Karening your soul to death and you’ve become paralyzed. Send me an e-mail. At the very least you can vent.
This is not about politics. It’s about living. Neither my boat nor the monarch caterpillars that lived on my desk nor my dog which died last spring were members of a political party. They were what gives life flavor and spirit. I’m hoping you’ll find joy and freedom. That’s all. I don’t want your vote. I’m not going to tell you to be like me. I’m just offering encouragement for those who might need it.
This is a limited time offer. It’s a short virtual supportive moment where you can get your bearings and come back up off that mat swinging! But then, I’m going back into my peaceful loner world.
Life is awesome. You don’t have to be a scared little bitch. Better to be self realized adult than an infantilized game piece in someone else’s Utopian design. Sometimes all one needs to rise above is to know that it can be done. It can.
Good luck. I really am rooting for you. So are others.
Get out and smell the flowers. You’ll be glad you did.
A.C.
Warning: I go off grid often. I deliberately don’t check my e-mail every day. These are techniques I use to keep the F***book monster (an analogy I just made up) from doing to me what it’s done to the world. Please don’t flake out if it takes a while to get a response.
We need more like you. Thanks.
OMG, AC, “ray of fucking sunshine”. Thanks, dude! This is the most uplifting thing I’ve read in a while. I got about halfway through before I realized I mistakenly thought you were another blogger I read faithfully. Cognitive dissonance. Or something. Mostly tequila.
Seriously, good on you for throwing out a cyber lifeline to those who could use it. Prepare to be inundated…
WuFlu was blown out of portion for political reasons. I’m 76, got the Moderna shots in February. Everyone I know who had WuFlu related problems had previous serious medical problems.
Life can be tough and shit happens. I like the Billy Currington song chorus: God is great, beer is good and people are crazy.
My sites URL doesn’t work om your footer. fordfe.info
Your post cracked me up (“I’ll try to be the ray of fucking sunshine you might need.”)
Although I don’t need a hand to hold or a shoulder to cry on, it’s good to see someone willing to offer assistance to guys who are going through tough times. Thanks for doing that.
Good on you! Thanks for the shoulder offer, but I’d rather drink a beer with you and bad mouth the legions of “bad folk” commies and such. Thanks for the sane blog. Glad you’re being you.
It is a good job that the snowflakes don’t read your blog. I can just imagine many of them needing PTSD counselling if they can’t get their favourite flavour of Granola bar and turning to you for emotional support.
Methinks that’s making a rod for your own back.
I know I’m a little late to the game (sorry, work’s been a bear), but I’ll add a slightly different perspective. I lost my wife to pancreatic cancer in early 2020. We buried her just before COVID restrictions hit, and then we pretty much lost the rest of 2020. Now we’re facing droughts, permanent pandemic panics, and 3 more years of Illustrious Potentate, national edition.
However, nothing we’re facing right now is worse than stuff other people have faced before. There is a God in Heaven, and He says that there’s nothing that anyone can do to prevent Him from keeping us. We are promised trouble on this world, and that we will get trials and tribulations. Wars and rumors of wars, and all that. They’ll accumulate like birthing pains just in the course of normal events. And then the worst comes. But, for all the bad stuff that is lined up (especially Revelation 5-20) for us eventually, Revelation 21 and 22 promises that the end story is eternity with him.
The problem of pain is a real head-scratcher. I don’t even think people in Heaven will be able to fully explain why some of this crap needs to happen. Grab on to the basic concept that we can know how the story ends, and that even if the worst is yet to come, the best still comes after it.
(And if you want to email me, feel free. I haven’t blogged in a long time, but I’m not gone. Google for the blog and there’s an email link.)