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The truth is that I didn't intend to run outta having some pot to smoke. It's just that there ain't none available from my usual sources. It's probably a good thing in some way, but I kind of regret it. I haven't gone a whole day without smoking pot for over ten years until yesterday.
Watching television don't seem worth it much. Maybe if I could afford to buy a satellite dish service and had more to select from it might be better. The fact that so many people do that or have cable to their house takes away from the over-the-air reception that's the only television I get these days.
The digital change-over has helped some with it's simulcasting (if that's the name of it). PBS has a digital channel that shows a lot of tourist shows. They play the same shows over and over. Sometimes four or five times every day. Presently, as I sit here with the sound muted, I'm watching a show on the National Park Lodges.
I've been to most of the National Parks, but I've never stayed in a single one of these lodges. I slept on the ground out in the bushes where I couldn't be spotted by the Park Rangers. The problem with the Rangers only came to bear if I made a campfire. That would give them an excuse to hassle me. Campfires, even small ones, can be a great comfort.
I build little campfires around here frequently just to make up for lost time. It's getting cool enough for a little fire to feel good now. I've been working in the woods around my house for about three or four months now that I'm feeling better. I got plenty of wood from cutting out the underbrush ready to go.
The most recent place I've been working at clearing the underbrush is next to the lane that leads from the paved road back to me and my youngest brother's houses. He lives a little further back in the woods than me. The bushes and trees that are exposed to the morning sun along that lane starts crowding out the lane and I have to cut it back to keep from scratching up the cars and trucks that come through there.
If it was up to me I'd leave it be for the most part. I've never had a car that a few more scratches would make any difference, but my brother and his family do. They have to cross my land to get to their houses. I got mad when they were running their business from there and forced them to use the land down by the pond mutually owned by our siblings.
They got real mad at me for forcing the issue, but I wasn't making a dime from their business, and the delivery trucks weren't happy to have to run the gambit through the overgrown bushes. Our other brother owns some land even further back in the woods, and he had the roadbed mucked out and brought in gravel to make it serviceable, but within a few weeks they were back on the lane again. Now, they've put gates up to block the road. I feel like Rodney Dangerfield.
It doesn't matter too much to me that I don't get no respect from my siblings. They didn't rebel against our parents like I did. To me, their disrespect is not about me, but about what kind of person they would think they were if they had become their own person. It certainly has not done me any good to have reached for individuation, so why would they respect what they consider my downfall. No blame.
The beard I kept for more than a year went the way of all good things yesterday. It had grown over a foot long and the covers I pulled up to keep me warm now that it's grown cooler would shove my beard up into my face at night. When I woke up at the end of a sleep cycle to go pee sometime I'd find my long beard pushed up into my mouth. I kept the mustache.
The most interesting thing about my mustache is that I haven't trimmed it one bit in over two years. It got to a certain length and stopped growing. I don't know it that had anything to do with my beard or not. It makes me think about how the hair on my brother's dogs only gets so long and stops growing. The mustache looks good without me having to do anything to try to make it look better. I'm wondering if it'll start growing again now that I've cut my beard off.
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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.
