Wednesday, December 6, 2017

Space, is strange to accept

For years I had lived in small apartments with a bunch of stuff and another person, and their stuff. Then I lived in a small house, with my stuff and her stuff and the kid's stuff. Then it was the same house with my stuff, and the kid's stuff and another person who came over having to live with all that stuff that was not her's.

So here I am now, in our new home, with double the space so no one is really on top of each other. There's still stuff, but it's not as visible. There's a room where the stuff is and you do not have to look at it if you do not want to. And again, this is all my stuff.

When I sit in the basement, which is about 40 feet long, I freak out that there is nothing piled up that I can see. Stuff is arranged, in its place and not giving off a cramped feeling. Everything is, and that's been hard for me to deal with after living in such tight conditions for the past forever.

Our bedroom is on the third floor, the whole floor. My wife was drying her hair while sitting on the floor this morning.

"We should get a chair so you don't have to sit on the floor."


It's a chair, a necessary chair that would not take up much space.

It would be more stuff, but also a piece of furniture that would be used.

Stuff is weird.

Saturday, December 2, 2017

All over but the unpacking

We're more or less in the new place now. More because it's here, less because we're still figuring out the logistics of placement. The muscle memory of coffee making has changed due to the shape of the kitchen and remembering where the scoop for the beans is, where did the scale go, where does the French Press go after it's used.

In time, we'll get that.

Just figured out how to get the answering machine back up (yes we still have one) and will work on the surround sound in the next day or two.

Artwork has to be hung up, but where? Some of the new arrivals have to be matted and framed.

The basement is awesome already, and we have plans to make it incredible.

It's so darn quiet on this street too. For me, that takes some getting used to.

Meanwhile, the GOP has passed one of the cruelest tax reform bills in decades and the long term consequences will be felt by all of us, unless we're uber-rich. And I suspect they will run out of places to hide soon enough.

So please, I do not want to read one complaint. You were all warned. Numerous times. I see the tweets and instagram posts you click like on. Do not go there.

Saturday, November 25, 2017

Blurred days

Been another week of loading up the car, unloading it all in the new house. Repeat. Somewhere in there my wife made a lovely Thanksgiving dinner. I did take the garbage bin out to where one of my new neighbors said to on trash day. The next morning it was on the opposite side of the alley where I put it, next to my gate. This was nice of someone.

Nothing really heavy is left for me to move, than's what movers are for on Thursday. Still have to slide the washer in the new house over to make room for our newer one. Anyone want a washer? Let me know. You move it out, you own it. Even most clothing has been taken over to the new place. Kitchen stuff soon.

The basement is taking good shape. Where the music, guitars and fun things are.

Five more days and the transition should be done. Then to get the old place ready to sell, and the sooner the better for that.

Monday, November 6, 2017

Lottery with a bullet

It may have finally come to pass where it is time to monetize the mass shootings in America. It's time to hold a lottery. A pool for when and where the next mass shooting will be.

This is a pool where one can parlay their predictions into millions of potential dollars. The money raised can go to the NRA or to other gun loving lobbying groups

Some suggested categories for people to gamble on may include:

The date
The state
The sex of the shooter (a gimme!)
The race (can be tricky)
Age of the shooter
Did the shooter have a prior conviction of domestic violence
The population of the place where the shooting occurred.
The time of day
How many were killed
The ages of those killed. (youngest, oldest)
Were any of the victims pregnant?
Did any good guys with guns try and stop the shooter
Did the shooter die before being captured?
Did the shooter take his own life?
Was the shooter captured alive?
Was the shooter offered Burger King or other fast food by the police force?
How many wounded?
How many permanently disfigured
How many victims had GoFundMe accounts opened to pay for their medical bills?
How many victims had GoFundMe accounts to pay for their funerals?
How many members of congress posted a tweet that said, "Thoughts and prayers are with the victims."
How many hours it took the president to do the same
Did the president do the same?
How many cable news presenters said it was "Too Soon" to talk about gun control
How many cable news presenters tried to politicize the shooting less than three hours after it happened

As you can see, the possibilities are endless. Why not add your own?

Come on America, put your bullets where your wallet is. Make this happen. Make it great!

Friday, November 3, 2017

Thomas Wolfe and the home thing

Back on Long Island for a visit. Just a visit. For a change there are no funerals to attend. The weather has been oddly glorious for early November. This morning, though, there was a dense fog and I went to Heckscher State Park to see how the Great South Bay would look. It was hard to see though the mist. Very eerie and quite cool. A mist formed over my glasses. Made me wish I’d spent more time down here in high school. Should have ridden my bike down there instead of the to the South Shore Mall to play video games. It would have given me some much needed serenity.

The presence of my Mother is at many turns I make. She worked at the Connetquot State Park, which looms large with my family. There’s a memory bench with her name on it by the hatchery, where the public cannot go. My Stepfather and I went there today. He’s struggling with mobility these days, as he ages. But he got out his walker and rolled himself there.

As I drive my rented Hyundai around Western Suffolk County, memories flood me more than usual this time. Mostly about all the places I did not go, and how much time I wasted not going to them. But there’s the place I cursed up a storm at a guy for taking my bike. There’s the building I where threw a solid punch at a guy and knocked his head back. And of course, the house I lived in under some torment. But my Mom is still all over the place, and me - well I deliberately tried to erase my presence, or at least my footprint - and I cannot put it back, nor do I want to.

Overall it has been a good and necessary visit. My Stepfather took us to dinner last night, I took him to lunch today. My Niece does not take any crap from by Brother, which is a good thing. Later, I’m taking my Aunt to dinner. After that, who knows.