A BRIEF DEFINING MOMENT IN THE TIME OF FATHER's DAY

I was listening to the live version of a song, In Your Eyes.

It opens this way:
"Accepting all I've done and said
I want to stand and stare again
'Til there's nothing left out,
It remains there in your eyes
Whatever comes and goes
I will hear your silent call
I will touch this tender wall
'Til I know I'm home again"
I take the idea “until there is nothing left unsaid”.
This has such significant meaning to me. To let it all go to put it out there. I don’t think I am alone in this thought; that we, for whatever reason, fear or something else, leave so much to our minds across the silent distance of our two bodies, assumptions, uncomfortable misunderstandings, confusion between us left unsaid.

Us, people; family, friends, lovers and the unrequited.
The words of Kate Bush run through my mind.
“Of all the things we should've said,
That we never said.
All the things we should've done,
Though we never did.
All the things that you needed from me.
All the things that you wanted for me.
All the things that I should've given,
But I didn't.”
Of the people I have lost, I am left holding so much unsaid.
I don’t want that anymore. I let it go, my reserve, my hesitation, my denial.
There is a children’s book of which I cannot recall the title, about a mouse named Pierre. Pierre was a fisherman who was in love with a dancer. She lived on a cliff high above Pierre and his boat on the sea. Everyday he floated by her home longing for her. Yet, afraid to say he loved her for in his mind she would not love a fisherman. She was an elegant beautiful creature.

One day Pierre could not contain his feelings. He was miserable, longing in his pain of the unsaid. He goes to the dancer and professes his undying love and before she could reply he ran away too afraid to be rejected. He goes home to be alone with his thoughts, his pain. And as he sits there he realizes he feels so much better. It wasn’t not being loved in return that hurt so badly, it was holding in his feelings, his thought, his need to express, to say out loud until nothing is left unsaid.
Maybe it is selfish of me, but I don’t want to bare the burden of not saying to you or anyone anymore what I didn’t say to others and cannot say to them now.
There is no word or phrase to express what significance you bring to me; and what meaning I hold for you in my heart.

In the silent space between our thoughts, the time that has passed, our perspective recollections, compassion and forgiveness exist in-between father and son. Whatever now holds between us, across that distance, in the space of misunderstandings, of lost time and opportunities, and the unspoken word, I want not to leave it unsaid that you have brought such meaning to my life and I am ever so grateful and humbled to have known you, to know you, to call you my father.

Nashville, The New Carpet Baggers

The history of your town of your life will pass you by.
Please try to understand. Don't get me wrong. I am from Nashville. 1962. I've lived here through our ridicule. I grew up in an appreciation of truly talented musicians. Now as I stand in an anomaly in a crowd at the War Memorial, I am not pleased as I would be at the Ryman. The band is quality, the crowd not so much. This crowd of Vanderbilt, Belmont privileged,  I resent the corporate attack on my birthright. I grew up in ridicule of Hee Haw only to see the explosive welcome and disregard of my southern heritage, of a small town gobbled up by condos by the influx of hipsters. So, as they move in I am moving out.

When you are on the last bit of your down slide, if you don't pour everything into it, you'll never feel the ecstasy of the crash. We all  need something to look back on as our lives flash before us. And I don't need this when there is the Cumberland Plateau, Ridge and Valley, Smokey Mountains/Appalachian Trail.

Lord of the decadent.
I'd rather take the unknown and make something happen amongst instilled fear and risk all that exists rather feel secure in the anchor of suffocation, waiting for the moment to arrive.

Free to the Associations

I was concerned you would miss me so I decided I wouldn't let you.
I know you are thinking,  'How can I miss you when you won't go away?" I can't advise as I am only the stalker. It takes two to tango. I won't call the police unless I have to tell them someone is holding a gun on me in their house.

I think on paper you look better than I do but in a Turkish prison I would rise above.
Well we all have our loses and misses in dementia.
That's me though.
I let my mind go where it wants without restriction. Some people are afraid to break through that barrier and let go, but they might like to be free to wanderthink
I'm always going to let my mind go there.
Open up the door to a large ballroom of free thought and dance the night away!

Happy New Year!

 Is the text.
I respond in 257 days. Slow down there soothsayer. I think, Why Happy New Year?  Each day, each minute, each second is a happy new year.

So those who think a happy new year is only on December the 31st at 12:59:50, you can take that indoctrination and that corporate hallmark  marketing mentality and chew, grind and genuflect it until the fat cow sings moo mother fucker moove over let retrospect come over. There are 365 days in most years. I don't like to make quick judgement. By hell or high water. By the blue bayou I I live and die day by day one thing, one minute at a time, inching away the the minutia of time that ekes out of the seams and pours from the breaks.
Ok. So now. This minute. I'm off into a new same world. I preferred the one with you. But that's not gonna happen or is it? Time is irrelevant.  So my choice if you asked, I'm in the now. If you need an immediate response I can only reply to happy right now! It's a choice.

A lesson learned from severe desire and methodology. And foundational people in my life. Guides.

And what better mark can a person leave on the earth than that to inspire others to love and be loved to be kind and caring and honest.