what can you say?

you win some and lose some

and as blogstream blasts off into cyberspace I can only say

byyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

http://theolblogstream.blogspot.com/

I’d been getting the feeling for over a month; the feeling that everything was going to be alright, just like the song, yes?  Everything is going to be alright.  What a concept!

 

I questioned it; picked it apart, the very idea of it, and finally decided, I couldn’t find fault with it.  You’ll ask what makes me think it will - just because I think it will, and I’ll laugh and you’ll know for sure.

 

For months (and months) I’d been seeing flashes of it - in my mind, always wondering exactly what was going on - in there.  Only to realize now that those ‘flashes’ were just preliminaries to the idea; everything will be ok.

 

My daddy once told me that when the feeling came upon me it would be a wondrous moment and indeed it was, indeed it was.  I first got a glimpse of it at the moment of his death - when I realized I’d see him again.  Such a simple thought (in a way) but the message it packed, rocked my up to then world.

 

At first I thought it was a physical thing - but as time went on I realized it was coming from a place where physical didn’t mean much.  Next it was my imagination which was playing tricks on me, but no, it wasn’t so; my imagination was nowhere near the place the feeling was taking me.

 

Booze and drugs came next, but was just as quickly - discarded for the bogus information they both presented.  Of course I know that not all of you will either believe, nor heed this story I’m telling - but I’ve been told that a few of you will experience it sometime in your life.  Doesn’t that excite some of you?

 

Did I really find a journal in the men’s restroom at a Reno Casino?

 

What a question to ask, lol, but yes, I did.

 

Sometimes when the feeling washes over me I feel a little overwhelmed, as if too much too soon or something.  But basically, I’m just insulated within my world, and the feeling, that glorious, fucking feeling.

 

Writing this is like pulling teeth, a sort of writer’s chip, not quite a block, just a chip.  Wondering why - just leaves me wondering why, so I keep on moving down the road, watching the proverbial can roll by, while wondering who kicked the damn thing in the first place.

 

The song goes like this; lay down and play that funky music till you die, and suddenly - a flash - me in the barbershop getting a ‘flat-top,’ with old Harm trying to convert me to his Christian way - and while this thought blows through my mind - another one - dieing doesn’t seem so bad...

 

lay down and boogie, and play that funky music till you die.

 

Still, I wonder ‘what’s going on,’ but then that only makes me think of Marvin, so I move on - always on the move, always.

 

I used to have a good friend, he played the ‘guitar,’ or maybe it played him; we never knew for sure.  He told me he got lost in the music and sometimes couldn’t stop playing, even after hours of non-stop jamming, drinking, smoking and blasting.  I knew this to be fact because many of those times I was with him - and not regretting it.

April 4th, 2010

 

page 112

 

Earth Unrecognizable By 2050 

 

That headline, though semi-small, and buried in the back pages of my newspaper - still - burned into my consciousness, causing me to be extremely happy to have the birthday that I have.  How great can it be to be my age - and to have lived the life I’ve lived; so sorry for all of you young people, so sorry.

 

Yeah I know, I shouldn’t be so ‘self-centered,’ but hey, it’s every man for himself isn’t it; another reason I’ve never had children.

 

Apparently, according to the article (neath that headline) - the earth’s population will be so out of control by 2050 - the experts say - that feeding all the hungry mouths (most of them in poor countries) will be a task probably not feasible, and likely impossible.  Jesus!

 

Yes, our generation was not only the ‘greatest,’ but the ‘luckiest,’ for we’ve  enjoyed ourselves (and continue to do so) like none before it, or after  - and apparently like none to follow it (with apologies to the baby boomers).

 

Talk about having your cake and eat it too!

 

So, instead of being depressed about our age and the way ‘time’ has sped by - we should be celebrating our lives, and how great our time on this earth has been. For, I can safely guarantee you - that humans on this dirty speck of dirt will not enjoy themselves like we have - ever again.  Rock on!

 

That it is a fact that I’ll be long dead, and in the ground by 2050, is an accepted fact - but - from the headlines/predictions - “it is where I prefer to be.”  Jesus H. Christ!

 

I must admit, (after reading the above journal entry) - to feeling somewhat ‘depressed and pissed’ at the same time.  Depressed that the headline he (I’m thinking now that the author is a he) referred to  is probably true, and pissed that the author and his greatest generation, could actually be riding into the sunset - (while looking back at the rest of us and throwing the proverbial ‘finger’).

 

But, the truth of the matter - is - “they are.”  Those elderly folks (I’ll never feel sorry for them again) we see in the grocery stores (pushing their baskets full of prunes and oatmeal) are laughing their asses off as they spend their last days watching the world - going to hell in a hand basket.  Which is what they’ve always told us was happening, yes?

 

I can close my eyes and see them - sitting in their chairs at home watching the ‘news’ as one disaster follows another.  What a joke this world has turned into.  Sure, we can be ‘positive’ and talk it up - but the facts are there for all to see - ‘this old world is self-destructing.’

 

Take our own country - the good ol U.S.A.

 

Way too powerful for any other country to ever take down - the U.S.A. seems to be intent on ‘caving’ from the inside out.  Does it not?

 

Yeah.... they were the ‘greatest’ and the ‘luckiest.’

 

They had it all and we get what’s left.

page 29

 

August 22nd, 1955

 

Last night was the beginning without doubt; the event (I’d been waiting for) came unexpectedly, exactly like I’d been told it would, and it was impossible to ignore the significance of the steel ball, although it was all to do with the man.

 

It happened on my way back from Memphis - I saw him (suddenly) on the side of the road.  He was a little shortie, not over 5-5, and old, at least 60, maybe 70 - I couldn’t tell for sure, so fragile was he - as he flagged me to a stop.

 

I’d been to church, a revival was going on; Aunt Mame’s - ‘guy’ - was doing the preaching; it had been my first chance to hear him.  He preached on the evils of drinking and carousing, and I’d been so moved by his sermon - I’d promised God that I would not take another drink as long as I lived, and would never - ever  indulge in the ‘carousing thing.’

 

The old man claimed his car had broken down, and as he settled in the passenger seat of my car, he held a large brown satchel in his lap - gripping it as if it would fly away without his arms around it.  It was my opportunity and I recognized it as such, and when I pulled over to the side of the road a few minutes later (to let him step outside the car to P) I knew it was time.  As he shifted in the seat I knew he was going to get out while still grasping the satchel,  so I instituted my martial arts training - and grabbed his little cantaloupe head, ‘twisting real quick’ - snapping his neck - nice and neat.  Plucking the satchel from his relaxed grip - I leaned over and opened his door - and kicked him out into the night air.

 

It was the perfect crime.

 

Last night, in my apartment - I marveled at the contents of the satchel; 48 large, white envelopes, full of currency; ones, fives and tens - but the total was $40,321.

 

Post Script - March 13th, 2005  -  I never knew (nor wanted to know) who the old man was or anything about where his money had come from -  I only knew that it became my ‘start,’ just like the old gypsy woman had told me it would. My conscience has never bothered me since that night; why should it?

 

I remember now (even after more than a half century) conversations I had with my grandfather, and three uncles; they’d all told me to grab the ‘ring’ - “if”  - if it came by - for they’d never seen it at all - so, if’n I was to see it - I was to grab it.  Uncle Pete told me that once you reached a certain age it was all downhill from that point anyway - so if your chance came - you should grab it without hesitation. 

 

Now, at my advanced age, I realize (even more than then) that what they told me influenced me greatly, though in a sublime way. For ‘things’ do go downhill from a certain point (of ones life) and it’s been no different (for me) even though I’m living in 2005 instead of 1955.  The thing that bothers me though, is that it doesn’t matter that I have all the money I’ll ever need - I’m still shackled with the same shit as my grandfather and uncles.  So, the sad irony is - that the money hasn’t helped; oh, it made things go a little smoother - but in the end - I’m still in the same spot - with everyone else.

 

So... ‘our journal writer’ - killed an old man and stole his money, and even though he/she has no regrets - admits that it (the money) made no difference other than perhaps making it ‘smoother,’ whatever that means. The reader is left to wonder ‘if the journal writer would do it the same way - if given the opportunity (a do over)?’

 

So, - What’s the moral of the story?  Or, is there one? 

 

That whoever our killer is - was a Christian person right up till ‘opportunity’ knocked, wherein it was decided to throw out his/her Christian teaching/faith, and commit murder? Maybe.....

 

Anyway, this entry gave me a clue how old our writer is.  Since he/she had to be ‘around’ - twenty-something (it would seem) in 1955, then by doing a little math (as they say) one can come up with an approximate birth year between 1931-35 - making our writer probably in his/her’s late 70’s or early 80‘s.