Tempests Follow

"All ready as it's going to be dear!" Berta announced as she walked in. Lori had tried to take notes of some kind about some thoughts, yet all she had written were a few one liners. Looking up and smiling at the woman she was lightly ripped but in a state of euphoria for some reason. Just the perfect balance of tired and influences. Berta looked down at her and hoped she could make it up to the apartment. So this is the one huh? she thought silently once more, she shook off the saddening emotion that set in and smiled back at Lori. "Now tell me about this story you are stuck on?" She inquired as it being the first next thing she could think of. "Women, " Lori said almost like a drunken sailor complaining about his wives. "The habits that have been a part of their lives, and what that means as they age..." "A sort of, if you do this, it's a good thing, or this and it is a bad thing. The secrets that successful women incorporate into t

There is one line from the old movies and literature that stands out at times. This brave new world has been used countless times in many stories. It is more than a pity that that same line cannot be used to describe our story, our times. There will always be a lack of context as passions and self-righteousness rule our beliefs, our intelligence and our moral comapasses. There will always be this side and that side and all of those in between. To speak of anything today is to open a can of Pandora's worms and the connectivity of actions, laws, ideals, beliefs, educations and experiences. The Einstein in us knows that to adapt to change is a sign of intelligence, the only thing is, the change is happening at a rate either too much or too minute for us to adapt to it. Very few will see the shade of blue fading, or the sights changing around them anymore with all of the bells and whistles going off. Lost in all the noise though is change, real and undeniable change that happens wh

 Acceptance and Tolerance I know some of you have been following my story for some time, others not so much and others really don’t care. Whatever you have gleaned from my pieces on my recovery, the one thing that cannot be mistaken is the novelty of my first five years. It is within that novelty, and that constant reaching and trying that has left me here. Smothered with perceived acceptance and tolerance, little understanding and utter silence. I walked into my first meeting with a cane and three herniated disks in my back, a broken bone in my pelvis and sciatica that would drop the biggest tough guy. Not only did I have my alcoholism to get a handle on, but I had to jump through the hoops of a pain management clinic I am still with today, and a number of other issues. Now I can’t say my troubles are more or greater in difficulty than others, I am just saying that there is a novelty of it, one that has been missed and misplaced for a long time. I have brought this up because

In 1972 Mr. Moreno hired another attorney to his one man show. A Denice Patrick showed up on the scene and took over the client. The records were immaculate and he could see that she was even more fastidious than he was in her almost OCD organization. For the next few years there was little if anything going on until 1975 when fourteen applications for Non-profit 501-C3's were sent in located in various states. They dealt with everything from Breast Cancer research to funding of South American Tribes as far as their Purpose Statements. Also curious was in their By-Laws the money could never funnel up, simply over and diversify. That was something a bit unusual, most of the time these kind of folks want their seed money back at least. Playing a good hostess and enjoying the company for once she poured the brandy into the aperitif glasses once more. The two found out that just beneath their outward masks was a sarcastic run that both appreciated, the laughs started to roll out a l

Between the wake up call from Stephen King and the aspirin, the sleep and the brandy, Lori was soon feeling pretty good. Lori had asked her about the property and Berta's face just lit up, finally something that I can talk with her about, she thought. The property had been lived on for over a century and a half, it was the home of a mine owner in the area. There used to be a small town of smaller shack houses that had come down years after the mine washed up. It was bought by a local real estate broker and his wife and they kept in in the family until the 30's. She was in love with the English look to it and she created a vast and impressive garden. One that was the talk of the social circles when that was the fashionable thing to do with your money, plant it. It was sold to the family of an attorney friend of hers in the 50' and she had been there since, gosh, the late 80's? Lori found herself almost instinctively looking for some paper and something to write with as

As he cut away at the shrink wrap on the pallet his eyes did a quick scan of the labels. From what he could see in the few seconds of scanning is that they at least have them in reverse order. Meaning which most of the boxes that were the oldest were on the top and the newer stuff at the bottom. That is something that he would have done, sent the information starting at the beginning. He noticed that there was one box that didn't match, it was an apple box instead of a document one and had some newspapers taped over the top. He set that one aside for it had no date and whipping the pallet jack around he wheeled them into the corner. He began from there  as he went to work organizing the boxes by dates he could see. A real excitement went through him, this was like a treasure map and he realized he hadn't felt like this for a long time. The guys had known each other since they served together. They were not some kind of tough guy mercenaries or anything, but they had not had t

Berta had gotten George's radio call about the bear while Lori was sleeping. Her little place was too small and not set up for guests. She had a little apartment above the small building that Berta just called the barn. It was a barn, but it was also built in the manner in which her house was, all except the thatch roof. She had gone up there to open up the windows and doors, it was dusty as heck but it was still there. As she came down the ladder stairs she was thinking that she must have lost track of time, that poor girl doesn't know where I am. Lori just sat there and wondered which way to the bathroom? She didn't wan't to be seen checking out the place like some petty thief or something. She waited and called Berta a few times but the little woman was nowhere to be heard. She grabbed the cane George had given her and got to her feet. Her stumbling gait and hop technique took her to her first guess and she was right, what a relief. The case was not easy, there was

The door of the storage unit creaked up after being locked for that long. A changed person looked on into the possessions of another lifetime from not too many years ago. Backing up the U-haul to the doors Tom was thinking that he should just go to the dump. But it would look funny driving an empty truck halfway across the country. He was out, it was 2007 and he was on to his next chapter in life, and another government gig, The Treasury Department, and a choice job running some of the best minds in analytics and research. Great, now he was a money cop, not something that inspired him but it was a job. The smell of the coffee smelled like ambrosia, and the warmth of the little cottage had settled Lori's nerves and pain a bit, that plus the Canadian Aspirin George had given her. Berta was getting a gel pack from the freezer and rotating them out while the Victorian couch doubled as a hospital bed for the time being. From 2005 through 2007 there was an unexpected uptick in moveme

The yard was not manicured by any means, but there was a certain care being applied to it. There were a few Gnomes here and there and a couple of pieces of curious yard art. The front door was small she thought as Berta opened the rounded top, and apparently heavy wood door. It opened into a beautiful living room, not cleaned for company, yet not dirty at all. George helped Lori over to the Victorian couch with the Paisley mole hair pattern while Berta went to grab the moccasins and put an extra gel pack into the freezer. George said his goodbyes to Lori, he had driven her car and was going to check on Snaggles on his way back to his place. The surprised look on Lori's face made George reassure her that he would be just fine. As he piped up a bit to say "See Ya! Berta!" he was out the door and Lori just sat there trying to get her foot into a comfortable position. She had hit a main vein in her foot with the little rock and it is bruising up good, the pain may be going

George had been up for hours already, he thought he may see something from that end of the road after hearing a few shots. Had to be Berta he thought too, she was just about the only one armed on this side of things. The little Hyundai pulled up to an abrupt stop about a hundred yards away from his place. Lori just looked over to Berta at this point and was in terrible pain from her foot. She looped her foot up to look at it and it was absolutely huge. A blood blister was growing and her heel was about as round as a baseball. George just looked out of his window, a bit curious, a bit confused... Did Berta shoot Miss Lori? Looks like she is hurting from here. His Bulldog, Sprocket barely raised his ears and head, but at least he moved, George was getting worried. In 1997 as well, one of the first Tech Billionaires gets a call from someone he has not heard of or thought about in years. Time was made for the call and good times shared. In the midst of all of this reunion, a curious and

The whole cabin shook with a thunderous thud, and again a thud. Lori wasn't waiting any longer, grabbing her keys and her bag along with it she paused for just a second. She glanced at the old wall hanger and remembered what George had said and the next thing she saw was a fifteen inch cast iron skillet. With a deftness and wrist strength she didn't know she had she was at the door in two wild steps. To Lori whatever it was was coming through the bathroom wall by the sounds of it and with a quick deep breath she opened the door and bolted for her car. The first thing to happen was she ran out of her slippers in the first few steps and that caused her to hit a pebble on the next one. It sent shock waves up her leg and she was down, about halfway to safety. She grabbed her now numb and deadened leg and rolled over to see something running up the pasture at her. She rolled over again in pain and thought is this how it all ends? She jumped at the sounds coming from the cabin stil

 She put away the supplies and grabbed a flashlight to get some more kindling from the woodshed/pile outside. It was a ten foot walk and she completely forgot where she was when she started only to realize that she was out here in the night with nobody around. She got a little spooked and grabbed the kindling a little faster and bolted the door as soon as she got inside. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tom Johnson was always a bit anal in his work, and well, home life too. He was a large man with giant features and the mind of one of the best analysts out there and yet was stuck behind the look of a slightly whiter Shrek. He had kept every postcard, report card, business card and comic and they are mostly in pristine condition. He liked things as they were, not all broken and kidded up. It was 1989 and the job route that he had taken was all the way to a clerk in the Department of Energy, a numbers pusher really, no natural light for the most part exc

The slow grinding is still going on in the grout that is us, the people, the We, the 'Mericans, the ostracized and the enabled. There is a lot of this give the guy a chance, just wait until he brings jobs etc... My wife just unfollowed an old friend, others are dropping from acquaintances to strangers, from friends to frienemies. This fracking that has been put through our collective skin in wreaking havoc on the people. It is sadly mistaken by some to be just a phase, just some extra anger to get through, but I don't think those folks really know what has happened. In reading some comments on the march this weekend, I was amazed the comments from women who were disregarding the reasons and angst that these women have for going through this, again. Women are not oppressed, they get whatever they want, blah blah. It struck me then how big this disconnect is, this whole notion that we are just going to somehow "get over it" and that these are normal things happening t

Being the youngest in a large family I was always on the run, being held up to someone else's ladder, someone else's ideas for how I was supposed to be. This continued for the rest of my life, even to this day, with family members "doing much better" than I am. A very tall brother who looks amazingly similar the epitome of a good son, I was always a disappointment on so many levels. Being a sensitive person and simply not the archetype of my brother, the doer, the worker, the father even. So it goes to say that I heard the words "grow up" quite a bit. Why can't you be more like your brother? Why can't you do a better job at life? You are so talented what are you doing cooking? You must be lazy, or unmotivated, or something is wrong with your head? All the while not realizing that I was really going to be ok, I just had to get away from all the examples I was not. I miss my sister a lot these days and I think we were just the same in this gifted bus

I had a dentist appointment yesterday morning, I set up the cleaning and work etc... Then on my way home I decided to stop by a meeting I rarely attend anymore, the mix of toxicity a little too much to take at times. There were a few people that had known me from my beginnings in recovery, and I shared a bit. When, after I shared one of those people said they knew me, would do anything for me, but disagreed with something I had said. I didn't care if they disagreed, that was a given really, it was the part when they said they knew me, that is what stood out in my mind the most. So in pondering these things like I do, I really had to disagree with that statement. I have been tested medically and intellectually to find out about this Gifted business. I have passed with flying colors so to speak in their testing. So if it is a real thing then I definitely have it, and if there are others like me, which there are, they have it too. Now this person that was speaking of me is not the

  There are always going to be questions, always a wondering why. There is evidence more and more that the brain is like a muscle and gets stronger and more capable with use. It is even better it seems when examining why the brain goes places where the light and darkness of a day begins.   The shadow of the projectionist is one way I have described it. The thought before the thought, the spark out of millions that create the fire. Like why I am trying to write this as they are splitting logs with a noisy machine less than 20 feet from my desk?   I don't know appears to be the thought of the day and there is so much room for it. As my desk is vibrating from the machine's motor my thoughts are jiggling around in there like jumping beans. In that controlled quantum like state of the fizzing of soda bubbles I find the peace in not knowing. Knowing is not a friend all of the time, in fact, knowing screws us all up. Knowing gives us a choice and a lot of the time we put that into

Welcome to America.... Can I take Your Order? As this week begins, I am reminded again that the events and results from the previous year are trying to push themselves into this one. We are just short of that time when we permanently scar the buttocks of the nation with an asterisk and a question mark. When we hand over the government to those who wish to erode it away. Globalism made to order for a few, the people still a commodity being traded away in the most covert and overt of manners. I have written about the outright antagonism that the Russians have engaged in, the voting and manipulation of the American psyche. Breaking in to C-Span, dogging our cyber security and basically just laughing at us, we apparently are not going to do anything. There are others involved in this as well including our pals the Israelis, if there was a closer tie to another Super Power in this world we would be closer to China, but the Russians are working on them as well, so here we are. The Bols

In today's world that title is thrown out there to speak of a lot of things. The cost of housing, and food and electricity, you throw them all together and that is your penance. You must be responsible enough or dirty enough to succeed in covering your cost of living. Through hard work or in some cases none at all, people are programmed from the beginning to cover their costs. There is a price for living in today's world and the rest will be culled by societal natural selection. The fittest survive, the others struggle, while some just simply walk around in their meatsuits, the walking dead. That is our grand society, that is the nature of our success, we enslave from the get go. Program and pull levers to make our offspring just that much more efficient. The system has gone well for so long and it has produced some amazing success, but it is an old and unthinking model that allows nothing else to replace it. A conscription before they are even born, expectations created and a

I have had this title sitting up here since November 10th. I had no idea what it was supposed to mean, though I didn't get rid of it for some reason. Was it some part of an idea or concept that already escaped me? Or one that was yet to fully come into clarity? I have no idea where this block is originating from, but it's reach feels somewhat gigantic. Mercury in retrograde may be a part of it, or an inner tornado of bile that won't settle down with the best meds around. Maybe it is just a huge denial system that got kick started like an atomic bomb? Maybe it is a huge realization and a betterment of my perceptions? Maybe it is a grief of mourning for what I once thought I knew, not only about my country, but about people as well? I don't know what to call it because it has not yet made itself clear enough to me. Thus I pick up the pen, or in this case keyboard and walk my way through this. It must have needed a crisp New Year, a new perspective to get something out