Harry Bosch Said it Best When He Said:

I think Harry Bosch (from the TV series Bosch based on the book of the same title) said it best when he said to his teenage daughter:

All I know is that you only get ONE mother…and you don’t wanna blow it with her; because, when the time comes and she’s not around anymore, the world becomes a cold and hard place.

 Excerpt from Chapter Nine – “Us and Them”

bosch2

Dirty Kerosene.

reduce heat;
overthink;
let simmer –
stir in memories…
add some seasoning,
cover entire mix;
boil overnight,
slow and steadily,
infuse the sauce,
with every teardrop,
slow-cooked misery;
a favorite, indeed,
to anyone in the room,
this unspoken recipe,
Sugar-Candied Doom,
sadly,
it all tastes,
the same to me,
a price to pay,
for the slow-brew,
insomnia infused,
home-made marinade,
douse any leftovers,
in dirty kerosene,
and burn it up,
with any residual,
happy memories,
the pot has boiled over,
over-stimulus,
to the sensory…
bury the book,
the one from,
which you took,
this torturous recipe.

Veteran.

I remember screaming loudly in angry disbelief from the swing on the playground,

“Hey! That’s our lunch!”

I also recall nearly twisting myself from the swing in mid-air as I turned in childlike desperation to find my Papa (my Dad’s Dad) behind me, not seeming to give two shits that a bum was stealing the picnic lunch that took the entire morning for me to assemble to perfection.

“Papa…that man is taking our lunch from the table! Look, Papa, Look!”

My grandfather continued to push me higher on the swing, in spite of my exclamations; he never even looked over in the direction of the table (or our lunch) that I noticed, he just kept pushing as I sailed forward and up again on the swing. He had this way about him, though; an almost unsettling calmness woven tightly into his characteristic traits. Nothing seemed to ever really upset him; he was always chillax in comparison to anybody else I’ve ever known, to date; and, during childhood his patience often left me baffled beyond my inexperienced and young mind’s reconciliation.
It didn’t take long for me, being the tiny spitfire that I was, to eject myself from the swing on the up-swing (a stunt that my Papa disliked with absolution) and land approximately ten feet away in the redwood tanbark. I remember that I felt shocked that our lunch was being stolen and he planned to do nothing about it; it was in violation of my strict pre-school schedule.

“If you aren’t gonna stop him, I will!”

I “huffed and puffed” while I brushed myself off and began to head in the direction of the man’s quickly fading figure amidst the trees across the field of the park. Looking back, it always makes me smile to think about my Papa during my youngest days alive; he was such a wise and magical soul in every way. He never used to stop us from fucking up; on the contrary, he always allowed us to learn things the hard way, and for ourselves.
But on this day, he didn’t let me chase down the lunch-thief however; he stopped me in my tracks by simply observing out loud,

“Don’t you kinda feel like if that man stole our picnic like that, that he probably needs it more than we do?”

I recall this question literally making me feel weak for a second’s time; I stood still there in the sunny field alongside of my Papa’s short framed shadow and I swallowed what he said…I was instantly ashamed of myself for starting to chase after him; for reacting like I had…this moment changed me forever. My papa spent the rest of that afternoon explaining to me how this man had come to be homeless and dirty, angry and unstable:

He had been in the Vietnam War with my Dad and uncles; he had some bad times while he was there, and hadn’t found life any easier when he got back, afterward…

I never let go of what his patience meant to teach me that day about that man stealing our lunch; it created a soft-spot in my heart for Combat Veterans who have all but blinked out completely against a cruel and misunderstanding society they once called “home”. If there was one thing that my Papa drove deep into my being when I was young, it was HUMANITY in its rawest forms. I am ever-grateful to have had him, and still miss him to no end all the time, every day.

Harry Bosch Said it Best When He Said:

I think Harry Bosch (from the TV series Bosch based on the book of the same title) said it best when he said to his teenage daughter:

(Excerpt from Chapter Nine – “Us and Them”)

“All I know is that you only get ONE mother…and you don’t wanna blow it with her; because, when the time comes and she’s not around anymore, the world becomes a cold and hard place.”bosch2

Dirty Kerosene.

reduce heat;
overthink;
let simmer –
stir in memories…
add some seasoning,
cover entire mix;
boil overnight,
slow and steadily,
infuse the sauce,
with every teardrop,
slow-cooked misery;
a favorite, indeed,
to anyone in the room,
this unspoken recipe,
Sugar-Candied Doom,
sadly,
it all tastes,
the same to me,
a price to pay,
for the slow-brew,
insomnia infused,
home-made marinade,
douse any leftovers,
in dirty kerosene,
and burn it up,
with any residual,
happy memories,
the pot has boiled over,
over-stimulus,
to the sensory…
bury the book,
the one from,
which you took,
this torturous recipe.

XVI.

Anyone who throws tarot regularly will know that certain cards stick to each of us; from the first time we touch a deck, a handful of cards carve out an affinity to the hand that throws. I have seen it over and over again. One out of four cards that has remained near my hand without fail – and has again become very prominent lately – is
The Tower:
One look at this card, and you know that shit is about to go down.
The Tower Tarot card is all about change; usually very sudden, not-so-pleasant change. Changes in life are typically gradual; this allows our minds to acclimate. When a sudden, cataclysmic change occurs, such as the Tower card suggests, it is a triggering of a chain of uncomfortable (at best) events. When we are so entrenched in our daily lives, or stuck in an inflexible way of thinking, a swift and jarring motion is sometimes necessary in order to move forward. In order to strengthen, one must strip down to the skeleton and start anew. This is exactly what the Tower card represents; it represents an unexpected cosmic slap in the face, for lack of a better term.
The clouds are rushing, fire is thrashing, waves are crashing, people are falling, everything is at high-speed motion except for the tower; meaning that the signs have been all around us. However, we continued to sit in our “ivory tower” blindly while the storm brewed. So in actuality, the changes foretold in the Tower card aren’t sudden, we were just too pre-occupied to take heed of any warning signs. The presence of the Tower card in a reading is nothing to sneeze at; but by identifying your “ivory tower” of illusion and acting accordingly, a lessening of chaos may be possible.
In short, this is NOT a very promising or encouraging card to see on the table.

That all said, I feel as if this card and I most certainly have an affinity with one another, and pretty much always have. Out of the Tarot, it is definitely the card that would best depict the personally relatable expression of “waiting for the other shoe to drop”, or my seemingly perpetual lifestyle as a “storm trooper”…it is surely the “the shit has hit the fan” card – very appropriate in the context of my story thus far. I have a love/hate sentiment in regard to this card because it is also supposed to be a spiritual prompt to learn a lesson…and I sometimes am not able to pull any more lessons out of a given circumstance…and I get frustrated with all of it.

Teachers.

your-best-teacher-last-mistake-life-quotes-sayings-pictures

The Misidentified:
a Blood Eagle Rite;
a person who hides
behind
an opaque web of lies.

The Egotistical:
a Wolf in Sheep’s wool;
a person who is cruel
a fool
that never learned in school.

The Dishonest:
a Forged Document;
a person who spreads
darkness
and vomits resentment.
The Opportunist:
Never a Chance missed;
a person waiting in secret
focused
on the potential stumble in a step.

The Self-Designated:
the Power and the Glory, faded;
a person who is motivated
over-rated
by a harem blindly cultivated.

The Self-Assured:
The Most Boring Tale Ever Heard;
a person who is falsely secured
by words
as solid as the bridges burned.

Things I’ve Learned from my dog Ozzy:

Ozfest n Injustica

  • Never pass up the opportunity to sit shotgun for a joyride.
  • Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to make you smile.
  • When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.
  • When it’s in your best interest, practice obedience.
  • Let others know when they’ve invaded your territory.
  • Take naps and stretch before rising.
  • Run, romp and play daily.
  • Eat every meal with gusto and enthusiasm.
  • Be loyal.
  • Yawn often; it makes your mouth look capable of hurting someone – just in case.
  • Never pretend to be something you’re not.
  • If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.
  • When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by and just “be”..
  • Thrive on attention and let people rub you.
  • Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.
  • On hot days, drink lots of water and lay under a shady tree.
  • On cold days, sprawl out across the couch like it’s sport and you’re the Champion.
  • When you’re happy, dance around and wag your entire body until it seems possible that you might lift-off.
  • No matter how often you’re scolded, don’t buy into the guilt thing and pout…run right back and make friends.
  • Delight in the simple joys of a long walk or a game of tag in the grass.

 

The Most Forgettable Piece Ever Written

I have slowly been changing along with all of the madness that has become of my life since the DFCS took control over my only child (supposedly to “rehabilitate” her uncontrollable behaviors in “treatment”). Gradual differences have arisen between the Old Me and this…the Me who stands in place of the one who was robbed of everything and then slowly, but surely – beaten to death. Things that I see are perceived differently than a much more trusting and naïve Me would have seen them; the pessimism is beyond any sense of measurement these days, and the world feels so much less like Home.

After experiencing everything as horrible as what has transpired in the life of my own little girl, I have lost hope or any notion of forward progression from here. I just cannot seem to get my head around the vast corruption and greed in this particular arena…hmmmm…

How was it, that a young girl in need of structure and self-control, lacking the attention span to nurture such things very well, with physiological conditions that create an appearance far more mature than her actual years in age – court-ordered to reside at a community facility for behaviorally challenged children – is victimized by a staff of that facility?

Why was it, that after the child victim of sexual assault, came forward with such information to the facility administration, she was then horribly ridiculed in turn?

How can it be possible, that the government agency charged with the care and well-being of the children in the community, is also quite willing and capable of protecting NOT THE CHILDREN, BUT THEIR PREDATORS?

…I become enraged on a daily basis;

the normalcy I claim – my job: my saving grace amongst all of humanity – as it forces me to pretend; I escaped reality every day since 2006 that way – but that slipped away also, and will be gone on Friday…

Timing sure the fuck IS everything, isn’t it?