Planet 10 Meanderings

I can no longer sit by idly

2026-09-13T12:22:56.556-04:00

Last night was the tipping point for me. I watched the rally in Greenville, NC, with the 13 second adoring approval of our President*, reveling in the chants of "Send her back" arising from his people in that auditorium, and I saw an eerie foreshadowing of what the Germans must have viewed in their land in the years leading up to World War II. I am not willing to watch my nation become a realm of fascist totalitarianism. Apparently my belief that this situation would not fester but would instead be resolved by rational and sane opposition was seriously misplaced.
Listening to the vulgar, uncivilized leader of the executive branch continually dissemble and blatantly spout untruthful nonsense is nausea inducing. As Rick Wilson succinctly and insightfully wrote recently in the pages of The Daily Beast:

"When Trump reads a speech written to meet the rote demands of the presidency, somewhere in the bowels of the White House speechwriting office, some guy grinds out workmanlike, even uplifting, text. It gets a coating of lube from Kellyanne and the tiny cadre of other adults left in the Presidential Bedlam and then slapped in a Teleprompter.
Trump’s delivery of those obligatory words—the odd cadences of the marginal reader sounding out the big ones, and his flat intonation—is that of a person who wants to check the rhetorical boxes so he can get on with denouncing the enemies of the people. Reading the uplift is his ticket to shoveling the shit."

And:
"And eager to feel the transgressive thrill of validating and amplifying Trump’s latest racist excesses, the MAGAs waddled in to fill the auditorium. The ladies brought the sequined Trump tank tops and bedazzled hats, and the men tightly fitting MAGA T-shirts over their swag bellies. The flags were American, the vibe 1932 Berlin.
He knew what would happen when he launched into his prepared remarks about the four members of the Squad. He wanted his five days of stacking the kindling to ignite a racial bonfire, and it did. He knew what the crowd wanted, his feral instincts about their darkest impulses as keen as always.
Trump understands his Deplorables with an almost anthropological eye; he knows they’re not just looking for validation or jobs or a drained Swamp; they’re looking for permission to be as cruel, grotesque, and vicious as he is. He knows they’re addicted now to the way he enables and empowers them to say and do the things they want, regardless of consequence."

I refuse to allow this travesty to continue unopposed. I have never felt a need to involve myself in politics, relying on a belief that inherent wisdom and goodness will eventually prevail. I must disabuse myself of that failed belief system, and become involved. I refuse to be a spectator while my country spins into racist-driven, propaganda-infused evil.
I may have disavowed the lifestyle of my former hero, Hunter S. Thompson, but I know in my heart, that he would be appalled to his core with this administration and its vile sentiments, on open display without reserve. These swine, these morally-destitute, power-abusing piles of steaming execrableness, must be opposed. The gruesome spectacle that occurs daily, in the news, via tweet, in print sickens me to the depths of my soul and spirit.
The time to smirk at the president* and his conceited, self-important idiocy is over and done. I refuse to be an observer but will devote my efforts to seeing his grotesque mockery of statesmanship deposed.

NOTE: I discovered this draft post when I reactivated my blog this past weekend (Thank you for the assist Brian!) and certainly was surprised to find it unpublished, but also want it to be out there, as my perceptions are not changed since it was drafted.

Friendship Tiers

2023-08-24T11:09:00.003-04:00

I have thought about friendship a bunch over the past couple of years. I am of the opinion that people have three levels of friendship: primary, secondary, tertiary. Primary should be self-explanatory-best friends, basically. Secondary are those you want to be with when able, but not those that you need share every innermost thought, or feel a sense of loss if they are not in your life continually. Tertiary friends provide services that are agreeable and helpful, but they serve a purpose primarily. Most people only have a few primary friends, and a handful (or lots more) secondary friends. Tertiary friends are those that are turned to when useful, and then put aside until the need to have them around again re-arises.

Primary friends are those that need not be in your life each and every day; when in your presence, though, it is as though you have never been apart. Things just pick up same as the last time you were together. These people are precious, valued, treasured and important to you.

Secondary level friends are perhaps a step below those in the top tier, or even steps below. These are the people who you are glad to see when they walk into the room, people you want to sit with and catch up if you have not seen them in a bit. When they leave your life, though, it is not a cause for lamentation or despondency; if they will be back in your circle sooner or later, that is just fine. You enjoy their presence but are not torn up when they are not nearby. These are the people you invite to parties, gravitate toward when you are in social situations together, share details about your life and inquire about their lives in return. Need a fourth for golf-call a secondary friend. Since you probably only have a few primary friends in your life, you spend a good deal of your free time with those who comprise this tier. You enjoy their presence in your daily life; you do not crave their company, simply find it enjoyable to be with them in most situations.

Tertiary friends are utilized as they frequently serve a purpose, provide a specific benefit for you. They are not the people you consider when putting together a social event. Need a ride somewhere, or want to borrow some cash for a short period, these are the people you turn to. A tertiary friend is not one you immediately consider as a companion for times of relaxation or recreation; as noted, these people have utility as their primary attribute and aspect. They are not disagreeable, but you do not open up to them as you would a primary or perhaps a secondary friend.

©Ivar G. Anderson August 24, 2023

Walking with Selene

2022-06-01T23:18:00.000-04:00

I once thought maybe you loved me

But I now know that to be untrue.

I walk among the moonbeams,

Confiding to Selene

My best kept secrets.

I reflect on that gossamer thread

You use to stay connected to me

Thin and delicate,

Easy to sever and dissolve.

Your canards may be spoken

To soothe your sense of remembrance,

Reassure your conscience

That you are still available

When the genuine veracity

Is that my presence has long been forsaken

For other pathways and diversions

I recall your avatar fondly

But realize that the night is no place

For the day’s eyes to persist

Those hide amongst Selene’s radiance

As you have secreted yourself from my realm

Any argument that the brief incursions you deign to bestow

Demonstrate a willingness to resume what had been

Are purely mythological, at best.

It is in action we discern the veracity of intention,

Or by lack of action, an aim is revealed.

Shelter

2022-04-03T19:24:00.000-04:00

Apologies to Bernie and Elton, but hoping you don’t mind

My intentions to explain how wonderful life was when you were in my world

I am not a roof sitter, nor is there any moss growing here for me to abuse,

But I will confess A bit of ire arising as I pen these words;

Inessential expressions to be misunderstood

By most and many, yet digressions that pull themselves free

To find the paper of temporary transport.

It is not that we have so short a time to live, but that we waste much of it;

Still, I bear the burden of realizing you are all the things I must remember

Even as you shy away, drift ever further off

The thoughtful imaging of an Elvis triggers questions

And understanding that I know it isn’t me

That engenders those previous expressed ideals.

The occasional lament of “distance”

Seems to smack of self-delusion

After all, whose decision was the impetus?

The creating of the non-us?

The sense of core unity

Has been replaced with a sense

Of valence electron status-

Part of the whole,

Definitional in part,

But able to be discarded/cast off

In the aim of creating a new isotope

Unaware of whom is part of the nucleus you have constructed,

Only sense an absence from that reality:

Heard this on a hike and it hits home:

“'Cause I don't know if you are loving somebody, I only know it isn't mine”

You move onward, with your new tribe offering nurture and support.

Not sure how the barrier was established, was it that I crossed a signal, or a line?

In any event, the cast is now reshuffled,

And a relegation/delegation to a minor occasionally occurring role has taken place.

I work to untangle these strands that entwine the present, dragging it with lethargic torpor

Toward the horizon’s endpoint

‘Cause I know it certainly ain’t mine to embrace any longer.

You may have spoken the words first,

But I fear I said them last.

Either casual guideposts to direct understanding

Or obtuse unintended disclosures

Demonstrate the changing dynamics

Long suspected or realized

Dwell upon the reality too long

And be overtaken by a sense of loss,

Left to wonder at unrequested declarations

That only serve to confuse the issue.

Sorrow inducing loss, due to unasked for barriers

Walls unilaterally established

The random sporadic hope-inspiring remark

Only serving to heighten the sense of mistranslated signals

False hope that has led to forsaken mindful exoduses into futile

Ever-unrealized and unrealistic expectations

Could there be a sense of dishonesty

That rankles,

Or simply a failure to address the truth?

Queries are made,

But unattended and disregarded regularly

Then, offense taken, when gestures are not understood

And explanation of implication requested

In the shower, ruminating,

Realizing I no longer possess a

Sense of adoration any longer

Pleased to exhibit patience,

Humility, understanding,

Compassion, integrity…

But adoration, once key to my being, now absent entirely.

III

Relegated to tertiary status

Certainly no longer primary

Would not have known of your relapse

Had I not attended that Saturday meeting

Wonder who was the first told, and how many

Fruitless inquiry

Not secondary, either

Not among those who merit

Your rising and approaching with a greeting,

Surely not a hug

Thus, tertiary level.

Was a time…

Posts or messages were answered

Now, they languish in the ether

Decision made to cease the effort,

Since there is little response or even recognition

No point in pursuit of that which no longer exists

Chasing phantoms is unproductive

No longer one to whom queries are posed,

Advice requested.

Tertiary it is.

Time to accept and step away.

Realizing that it was your decision to cease our connection

And that led to the desiccation and disappearance of the Us that had colored my life

Although I never gave up on you and I

I realize that the one thing I cannot detach from

Has lost connection with me

There have been the occasional forays

To relink

But always with a qualification that makes it unworkable

As a relation worth valuing

Tertiary at best

And that is in no fashion a best for me

February 7, 2022

Freedom Paean

2022-04-03T19:20:00.000-04:00

Freedom Paean

Sincere sentiments

Treated with distrust or doubt

Heartfelt expressions

Ignored or at best breezily address with minimal allusion

Not full contempt, merely indifference

The investment yields no return

And therefore, demands withdrawal

Cast off and set free upon the open waters

Time to drift onward and allow the paths to diverge

Come to terms with futile longing for a return of expressed attention

An idea submitted time and again, futile denial now terminates

And the journey of discovery proceeds apace.

You may have said it first,

But I am destined to say it last.

April 3, 2022

2022-02-07T23:09:00.000-05:00

I Said It Last

Those terms of endearment

Once so freely spoken

Ended one cold winter night

As a unilateral determination

That these ideas and words should no longer be spoken

Trouble was, the feelings did not cease

Not immediately, not currently

Perhaps you spoke them first

Alas, I say them last

September 12, 2021

©Ivar G. Anderson

Pondering in my heart

2021-09-12T15:42:00.000-04:00

September 12, 2021 Got some things to ponder over these days. So...gonna be posting some of the thoughts that I have committed to paper or digital form as I find them in the detritus of my USB drive. Be prepared for none of it to make much sense. But since this blog is rarely frequented (even by me), not exactly a burning issue, now, is it?

2020-09-21T07:35:00.000-04:00

Waking morning vision

Single lavender rose

tightly budded

long stemmed

laid atop a set of white wooden stairs

leading up to a paneled deck

before a closed glass entryway door

Sylvan Lake

September 21, 2020

The Stoic Viewpoint

2019-08-07T15:04:00.001-04:00

I can recommend this article. I was told about Stoicism recently after I spoke at a gathering, telling a crowd that my existential philosphy had been discarded along with my former drunken alchololic lifestyle. I am now searching out a copy of the Meditations that Poet Emperor Marcus Aurelius wrote long ago. Here is a brief entry into that train of thought, for a start, though.
Darius Foroux: Marcus Aurelius-3 rules for life

The hypersane are among us, if only we are prepared to look (republished from Aeon)

2019-08-07T14:52:00.000-04:00

‘Hypersanity’ is not a common or accepted term. But neither did I make it up. I first came across the concept while training in psychiatry, in The Politics of Experience and the Bird of Paradise (1967) by R D Laing. In this book, the Scottish psychiatrist presented ‘madness’ as a voyage of discovery that could open out onto a free state of higher consciousness, or hypersanity. For Laing, the descent into madness could lead to a reckoning, to an awakening, to ‘break-through’ rather than ‘breakdown’.
A few months later, I read C G Jung’s autobiography, Memories, Dreams, Reflections (1962), which provided a vivid case in point. In 1913, on the eve of the Great War, Jung broke off his close friendship with Sigmund Freud, and spent the next few years in a troubled state of mind that led him to a ‘confrontation with the unconscious’.
As Europe tore itself apart, Jung gained first-hand experience of psychotic material in which he found ‘the matrix of a mythopoeic imagination which has vanished from our rational age’. Like Gilgamesh, Odysseus, Heracles, Orpheus and Aeneas before him, Jung travelled deep down into an underworld where he conversed with Salome, an attractive young woman, and with Philemon, an old man with a white beard, the wings of a kingfisher and the horns of a bull. Although Salome and Philemon were products of Jung’s unconscious, they had lives of their own and said things that he had not previously thought. In Philemon, Jung had at long last found the father-figure that both Freud and his own father had failed to be. More than that, Philemon was a guru, and prefigured what Jung himself was later to become: the wise old man of Zürich. As the war burnt out, Jung re-emerged into sanity, and considered that he had found in his madness ‘the primo materia for a lifetime’s work’.
The Laingian concept of hypersanity, though modern, has ancient roots. Once, upon being asked to name the most beautiful of all things, Diogenes the Cynic (412-323 BCE) replied parrhesia, which in Ancient Greek means something like ‘uninhibited thought’, ‘free speech’, or ‘full expression’. Diogenes used to stroll around Athens in broad daylight brandishing a lit lamp. Whenever curious people stopped to ask what he was doing, he would reply: ‘I am just looking for a human being’ – thereby insinuating that the people of Athens were not living up to, or even much aware of, their full human potential.
After being exiled from his native Sinope for having defaced its coinage, Diogenes emigrated to Athens, took up the life of a beggar, and made it his mission to deface – metaphorically this time – the coinage of custom and convention that was, he maintained, the false currency of morality. He disdained the need for conventional shelter or any other such ‘dainties’, and elected to live in a tub and survive on a diet of onions. Diogenes proved to the later satisfaction of the Stoics that happiness has nothing whatsoever to do with a person’s material circumstances, and held that human beings had much to learn from studying the simplicity and artlessness of dogs, which, unlike human beings, had not complicated every simple gift of the gods.
The term ‘cynic’ derives from the Greek kynikos, which is the adjective of kyon or ‘dog’. Once, upon being challenged for masturbating in the marketplace, Diogenes regretted that it were not as easy to relieve hunger by rubbing an empty stomach. When asked, on another occasion, where he came from, he replied: ‘I am a citizen of the world’ (cosmopolites), a radical claim at the time, and the first recorded use of the term ‘cosmopolitan’. As he approached death, Diogenes asked for his mortal remains to be thrown outside the city walls for wild animals to feast upon. After his death in the city of Corinth, the Corinthians erected to his glory a pillar surmounted by a dog of Parian marble.
Jung and Diogenes came across as insane by the standards of their day. But both men had a depth and acuteness of vision that their contemporaries lacked, and that enabled them to see through their facades of ‘sanity’. Both psychosis and hypersanity place us outside society, making us seem ‘mad’ to the mainstream. Both states attract a heady mixture of fear and fascination. But whereas mental disorder is distressing and disabling, hypersanity is liberating and empowering.
After reading The Politics of Experience, the concept of hypersanity stuck in my mind, not least as something that I might aspire to for myself. But if there is such a thing as hypersanity, the implication is that mere sanity is not all it’s cracked up to be, a state of dormancy and dullness with less vital potential even than madness. This I think is most apparent in people’s frequently suboptimal – if not frankly inappropriate – responses, both verbal and behavioural, to the world around them. As Laing puts it:

The condition of alienation, of being asleep, of being unconscious, of being out of one’s mind, is the condition of the normal man.

Society highly values its normal man. It educates children to lose themselves and to become absurd, and thus to be normal.

Normal men have killed perhaps 100,000,000 of their fellow normal men in the last 50 years.

Many ‘normal’ people suffer from not being hypersane: they have a restricted worldview, confused priorities, and are wracked by stress, anxiety and self-deception. As a result, they sometimes do dangerous things, and become fanatics or fascists or otherwise destructive (or not constructive) people. In contrast, hypersane people are calm, contained and constructive. It is not just that the ‘sane’ are irrational but that they lack scope and range, as though they’ve grown into the prisoners of their arbitrary lives, locked up in their own dark and narrow subjectivity. Unable to take leave of their selves, they hardly look around them, barely see beauty and possibility, rarely contemplate the bigger picture – and all, ultimately, for fear of losing their selves, of breaking down, of going mad, using one form of extreme subjectivity to defend against another, as life – mysterious, magical life – slips through their fingers.
We could all go mad, in a way we already are, minus the promise. But what if there were another route to hypersanity, one that, compared with madness, was less fearsome, less dangerous, and less damaging? What if, as well as a backdoor way, there were also a royal road strewn with sweet-scented petals? After all, Diogenes did not exactly go mad. Neither did other hypersane people such as Socrates and Confucius, although the Buddha did suffer, in the beginning, with what might today be classed as depression.
Besides Jung, are there any modern examples of hypersanity? Those who escaped from Plato’s cave of shadows were reluctant to crawl back down and involve themselves in the affairs of men, and most hypersane people, rather than courting the limelight, might prefer to hide out in their back gardens. But a few do rise to prominence for the difference that they felt compelled to make, people such as Nelson Mandela and Temple Grandin. And the hypersane are still among us: from the Dalai Lama to Jane Goodall, there are many candidates. While they might seem to be living in a world of their own, this is only because they have delved more deeply into the way things are than those ‘sane’ people around them.
Neel Burton
This article was originally published at Aeon and has been republished under Creative Commons.

Letter to LeeAnn #3

2019-05-12T14:00:00.000-04:00

Happiness is an ephemeral thing. I was recently told, "It's me, not you," and while that is a terribly trite phrase, I fear in this situation, it applies.

That was from something I meant to post earlier, much earlier. I fear that I have deeper problems than making people tell me that it is not me that is causing the problem. I am fairly certain that it is me, only me, that poisons relationships. Got to work on that.

I frequently think about a line from an Elvis Costello song that goes: "Sometimes I almost feel just like a human being." Sometimes I truly do, other times it all seems so odd to be here, alone and with many who are part of my life. A dilemma that I ponder on a daily basis.

If I follow through on the "Stepping Out" process that my cousin (Sylvia) Carol explained to me recently-actually, I had already decided on this course, just did not have a cool name for it-I will miss certain things, I realized. Amongst the things that I would pine for are:

The smell of lilacs on the spring evening breeze.
The taste of absinthe, chartreuse, bourbon and scotch.
Sleeping next to a naked woman.
Streets of Fire, The Adventures of Buckaroo Bonzai in the 8th Dimension, The Sin of Harold Diddlebock, Repo Man, Bar Fly, Kung Pow, Casablanca, The Princess Bride, Young Frankenstein, Army of Darkness, Blazing Saddles...and lots more.
Cooking an excellent dinner, or just making something out of what is in the refrigerator/freezer in the crock pot.
Growing my own herbs and peppers for cooking.
Writing.

Note:
Discovered this in the drafts on my blog. Things are much different in my life since I originally crafted this post. For example, the discussion of bourbon, scotch, absinthe and chartreuse is wildly misplaced in my current state of existence. I am guessing this to be at least two years older than the publication date of May 2019. Why publish it then? As a glimpse into my past being, I suspect.

Dark Night Prayer 5.11.19

2019-05-12T13:59:00.000-04:00

Pray in the dark night that the magic will emerge

Dance in the moonlight

Open your heart to the light

Talisman-bright and shiny

Carry me onward by grace of your being

Familiar companion, afford me your shielding asylum

Tread this path together with me

Faith departed

Then cold rain fell from the heavens

Soaked and shivering, we huddle, dissolute and dissipated

Feeling abandoned alone

Remember:

Pray in the dark night that the magic will reemerge

Dance in the moonlight

Open your heart to the light

I falter

Listening for the call of the soul

Guide me to your embrace

That I may discover purity and peace

Once known but now rebuffed

Pray in the dark night that the magic will reemerge

Dance in the moonlight

Open your heart to the light

Thinking about Dancing

2014-01-05T14:53:00.000-05:00

There's this woman-
     a goddess, really-
who
     has
          stolen
my
heart.

I like this,
   I realize.
The totality of her
is more than enough
for me,
but I will
     simply
accept my gift.

Her presence
in my life
is my present
source of joy.

To think this
sense of fulfillment
came about
after a leisurely lunch,
savoring a shared flatbread
with my enchanting companion,
inspiring me to be forward
with my intentions...

Only 37 days,
such a miniscule amount
of time together,
but oh, the wonders
she brings to my life!

I've had time to reflect
on our dance on New Year's Eve,
and now am confident,
that I can be her partner,
on the floor,
as well as wherever else
she will allow me to be.

2:55 PM Sunday, January 5, 2014 Farmington Hills

"A Parting Glass" (Irish Farewell)

2013-12-13T11:17:00.002-05:00

Now this is how you say goodbye to a friend:

Understand that you are more beautiful than you believe

2013-12-13T10:30:00.001-05:00

This is an example of what most (if not all) of us succumb to, the fallacy of finding fault in ourselves where it does not exist.

Give yourself a chance. You have so much to offer the world, so long as your thinking is not clouded with negativity.

October 30, 2013

2013-11-06T17:05:00.001-05:00

I have been mulling over the sense of loss I feel with Lou Reed no longer being with us. Prolly my favorite musical artist since college days, I remember my wife buying me tickets to see him at the Royal Oak Music Theater for my birthday, and me declaring after the show that I never needed to see another concert as my musical goal had been met.
What brings this to mind today is listening to the Slows music system unexplicably play the Velvet's Black Angel's Death Song. Wonderful symmetry occurs in this place. Just earlier, I was musing about a Carlos Castaneda reference I had tried to explain to a former companion, about finding a PURPLE place, and now my rock 'n' roll idol's come on to the music system to further plunge me into a reflective funk.
Anythehoo, RIP Mr. Reed. You certainly did stomp upon the terra.

Letter to LeeAnn #2

2013-09-25T21:37:00.004-04:00

Hey, Kiddo.
It hit me tonight just how much we shared, listening to Simple Minds playing Don't You Forget About Me. Remember how often that song played in our hotel room in Paris while we honeymooned on the Left Bank? I need to look at our journal from that trip tonight, I think.
Your boys would do you proud, I believe. Stephen has been in a stable relationship since his freshman year, far as I can figure. Brian has turned out to be a polite, intelligent young man, although he needs to date. Working on that.
I am dating a nice woman (a blonde, can you believe that?) who has three boys, so we have that in common. I still really wish on a daily basis that you were here with me. It is difficult to put 30 or so years behind me, but I do go on, tough as it is.
Brian and I are doing well at the house, and taking care of Mitch. I thought for sure he was a goner about 2 weeks ago, but that little shithead has more lives than a litter of cats. His goiter has burst, but that seems to have inspired him. I was all set to find him still and lifeless, but there are no graves to dig today. Or anytime soon, it appears.
I've dated several women since you left me alone, and four that I would consider serious relationships. One just faded away, one went on for a long while but wasn't going where I wanted and I guess I forced her away. The third was batshit crazy, but I didn't pick that up initially. Now on #4 and very happy. Not so sure I ever want to marry again...what if Jesus was correct and you meet all your wives in heaven? Then again, not much chance of that for me, but still...
I still prefer your family to mine, for the most part. Going on the Hofstad fishing trip this summer was special. Your boys made a special effort to connect with your dad and that was why I wanted to do the event. Time well spent.
Not to be morbid, but your gravesite is lovely. So glad you could rest near your Mom in the Lake Nebagamon Cemetary. I hope spreading part of your ashes on the shore meets with your approval; just seemed the right thing to do.
I still dream that you are with me. Not as often, but talking with my friend Olin, don't think that will ever end. I know that makes little sense to you, but it matters to me to put it into written form.
I will write again soon.
Love,
Your Dr. Woo

I Don't Do Crazy

2013-07-29T14:27:00.003-04:00

I Don't Do Crazy

Over the top

Accusatory

180 degree rotations

Not at all

what I want from my summer

Let's just take a step back

recall what was good

and go on our separate

merry

ways.

You had me

until the chain was broken.

Glitter on the floor mat

a reminder

of broken vows,

failed endeavors.

I see now

how foolish I was,

what my friends

attempted to tell me.

No time for this,

I have other plans.

You have written yourself

out of my itinerary.

Be well.

Just not with me.

Farmington, MI 7.29.13 10:30 AM

Dawn

2013-07-21T18:46:00.000-04:00

Dawn

Morning light

breaks thru

last night's storm clouds

You sigh,

roll over,

and the sheet

leaves your body.

I drink in your beauty

with my eyes

silently

adoring you

listening to your

soft, slow breathing

I move stealthily

my lips

trail along your

delicate curves

tasting the salty

remnants of last night's

exertions

We matched the

Gods' exhortations

with our own

collapsing before dawn

exhausted

I recall gathering you near,

then nothing 'til now

Love's amnesia

erasing any dreams

I prefer this

waking pleasure

until you rouse.

July 20, 2013 8:25 PM Detroit, MI

Mangos

2013-07-17T09:47:00.001-04:00

Mangos

I offer her praise

describing her attributes

calling her:

Gorgeous

Beautiful

Pretty

I adorn her

with my words

as does the fine chain

about her neck

dangling a pendant

that draws my eyes

to her exquisite throat

She demurs my accolades,

rolling her eyes,

only grudgingly accepting

my gestures and words

Her mellifluous voice

encourages me

to demonstrate

my adoration

with

a gentle kiss

a tender touch

a more passionate nibble

at her silken flesh

As my fingers caress

her desire becomes evident

A more sensual application

of lips to pale skin

leads to encouragement

yet

I proceed unhurriedly

savoring her treasures

imagining the pleasures

that await

Someday and soon

July 17, 2013 9:35 AM EDT Farmington Hills, MI

How to Uninstall McAfee Antivirus

2013-06-21T09:35:00.001-04:00

Warning: NSFW.
But very funny.
If you are using a tablet, here is the link

Uninvited Indifference

2013-06-16T13:00:00.002-04:00

Uninvited Indifference

Who invited you

to steal my soul?

'twern't I,

That much I know.

Yet

The deed is done.

I sense a void

burning with a cold fire

Consumption,

an awful sensation

The actual theft was sharp & clean,

I'll grant…

Deviously enacted,

a clean/sterile operation.

Emotionlessly performed.

The altar still spotless,

despite the brutal butchering.

It is not the absolute evil

of your act

Rather your indifference that hurts worst.

You carry on as though

you are unaware of how

exactly

you've damaged me.

It matters not;

I know that despite

your efforts to harm me

I will still

adore

you.

Indifference

cuts to the bone,

dispenses the worst pain.

Still,

I adore you.

That is my curse.

You owe me an apology

that I will never receive.

Ivar G. Anderson

March 28, 2013

June Day

2013-06-15T08:23:00.001-04:00

June Day

Unblemished sky

Not a cloud

to disturb perfection

of the azure depths

Emphasizing

those blue eyes-

melt my heart

A smile

to convince me

my choice is correct.

I lose myself

in her pleasure

She

is…

and that is

more than sufficient

for me.

To LeeAnn

2013-05-20T17:42:00.000-04:00

To LeeAnn

Hey, kiddo.

You've been on my mind a lot recently. I miss you daily, but it has gotten a lot worse/better as we travel into the third year since you left me.

I tried mourning, and that was good for me. Then I explored dating, since you told me you expected that I would find someone else to take your place. Like that could ever happen. We were together for over 30 years, married for almost 25. Is it any wonder I think about you every day? Have not been able to make your clothes disappear from the closet opposite mine, nor clear out your dresser drawers. Maybe that is just procrastination, or laziness, but it does keep you in my thoughts more often than if I had tried to erase your presence by donating all your possessions to Purple Heart.

Not that you believed this, but I was never unfaithful to you. Never searched out the opportunities, never would have taken advantage. It was you and me to the end.

I guess I am still loveable, judging from recent experience. I just don't feel all that desirable. My thoughts turning to you, and what I miss with you out of my life are not maudlin, just a basic realization of the loss the boys and I have suffered.

I hope you are in a better place now. I know how difficult it was those last few years. And I apologize for being me, and not being more there for you. I thought I could be like your dad after Snookie passed away and open up more, but I am what I am. Despite my efforts, I am still stoic, cold and unapproachable. I can argue a great case in court, but in my personal life, communication lapses frequently. How in the world did I ever win you over?

Your gardens live on. I am doing my best, and the perennials are all doing well. Aaron is still not billing us properly, but he did a complete yard clean up last fall. The only downside was his guys cut down the winter grasses, which was a disappointment but the plants are growing back. I am planting the pots and keeping the herb garden going, mostly in honor of you, but also for my cooking (with the herbs and peppers). I did get a smoker from Lynne the summer after you left, and it is great. I feel certain you would have seen it as an eyesore, but the ribs and pork butt and salmon are delicious.

I started going to Slows Barbeque on Wednesdays soon after you left me. Met a great bartender, Heather, who takes good care of me. My other home away from home with Pages. I think about you and how much you would have enjoyed going to Detroit for good food as an honored patron, but that was not meant to be.

My recovery from losing you is not smooth. As I said, I think about you daily. The people at Nardin Park talk to me about you every now and then, but they seem timid and step carefully, until I bring up your departure. I had a Sunday School student ask why you don't come to church with me a few weeks ago, and I had to tell him it was because you were dead. That was cathartic to an extent, and then my fellow teacher and I talked about how long you had been gone.

And now life takes a turn for the strange as the girl I had been dating shows up here late at Pages. Will talk later.

Later...

That was...odd. As I said, I had been dating, but we had a falling out about a baseball game and who I was taking to watch the Tigers play on a Wednesday afternoon. It was for the best know that, but it seems as my friend Melanie said, that I must be a real catch. I am not up for resuming the dating life at this point. It would be best to keep my life simple.

The boys and I are heading up to the Boundary Waters in northern Minnesota at the end of June to fish with your family. I normally would not have gone, but when I learned that your Dad was going (prolly for his final fishing excursion, he is 95 after all), I knew it was important that the boys have this opportunity. We will stop on the way back home to catch a couple of minor league games, since neither the Cubs or Brewers are at home when we are driving back through Wisconsin and Illinois.

Brian graduates in June, as well. Just like Stephen, he has no interest in having a party. He won't even send out notices. He told me he is no mooch and won't beg for money. He is also prepared to go to U of M Dearborn this fall, living at home for the first year. I am going to send him off to Ann Arbor, our old stomping ground, for his Junior and Senior years at a minimum, just so he can experience college life properly. I will let the family know about his graduation date tonight. Maybe Joy can head out to help us celebrate.

Lizzie is engaged. Learned that from Joy's e-mail this morning. Amazing how these kids grow up and become adults. Makes me feel like an old fogey.

Stephen should graduate this fall/winter, depending on what classes he can take this summer. Still is looking for a job, but at least he is looking. He is still with Katie. Nice girl, they seem very happy together. No talk of marriage, yet, but I see a long term relationship.

Will write again when I have something to share. Miss ya. More than I could ever have imagined.

Foggy Eloquence

2013-05-20T17:01:00.002-04:00

Foggy Eloquence

I am entranced by your

continual

inability to verbalize

all that you want to say

I sit back

fighting the urge

to pull the words from your mouth

since it is seldom

true

that I have detected

your patterns correctly

Instead

I let you drift

stumbling

and tumbling

I willingly follow

your tremulous path

toward explanation

or just discourse

concerning a subject

It is the path,

the journey

that intrigues me

I would

you

anywhere

your words lead