This pain allows me to explore the mistakes of my life. I just watched a PBS show about some kids who did their homework and became professional musicians at an early age. I had all the opportunities I needed to do the homework and get real good at playing music. I didn't do that. I cried a little to see how wonderfully their hard work had paid off for them. I could have been a contendah. I wasn't. I'm not. But, I got other fish to fry.
I did do my homework in other aspects of life, but it's always gone unappreciated. But, doing my homework is the very reason my work goes unappreciated. Nobody knows. They haven't done the kind of homework I did, but maybe some other kind of homework that I don't know about.
It's a good thing I live alone these days. It allows me to scream or grunt or start weeping when I overreach my limits. I'd hate to feel like I had to be polite and not make noises when I experience sharp pangs. As long as I don't move, there's a null point I can hover over and not experience the pain. But, if I start to move even the least bit, I stop to consider how much it's gonna hurt.
I'm not sure what the homework I did means. I passed the place where a casual observer could notice me performing miracles a few decades ago. They don't even know what I do can be done. Much less the finesse thirty years of practice provides.
"Dang me! Dang me!
They oughta take a rope
and hang me.
Hang me from the highest tree,
Oh woman, won't you weep for me?"
~ Roger Miller
If I should live so long and the Sun keeps shining I'm gonna see my ex-wife and two girl children in a couple of weeks. My "baby girl" is thirty years old. That's what I'm really crying about. I don't really wanna do it, but I'm gonna do it. I don't know why. I haven't learned a damn thing since I last saw them in 1982. I hate for my own children to realize in fact what a fool their father was, is, and always has been. I don't know how to be what they think I should be. I don't know what they've made me into from the hard line my ex-wife's family has feed them. At least I ain't had no legitimate male children to be ashamed of me.
I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
