I could sit here wishing on rainbows.

Not going to change that I can’t sing.

So I keep on rhyming here and writing.

Looking for the Next Right Thing

I could accept you, but the pain shows.

That’s not something that I can bring.

I carried that, and that’s not nothing.

Got me here, the Next Right Thing.

I still don’t know how the story goes.

Something like a prayer and a wing.

I’ve always had that innocence.

Like a child, the Next Right Thing.

Got no worries, just an afterglow.

The kind that light can bring.

There is something here that I don’t know.

It just accepts the Next Right Thing.

There are moments in the gutter.

Where only angels sing.

Singing songs of love and wonder.

Dreaming of The Next Right Thing.

My credit card company is at the forefront of efforts to get me to interact with  computers…

The grocery store down the street, the drugstore, and the dollar store have all invested heavily in self checkouts. These are the most apparent signs I see of a society in disintegration. The removal of minimum wage jobs through technology, benefitting students, single parents, and the elderly.

I am certainly not the first to make this observation. However, judging by the number of people I see using self checkouts; either people don’t care about this or they are unaware of the consequences?

I live in this world by choice, interacting with people who are wrapped up in their own affairs and see the same world through whatever lens available.

The latest statistics are 1% Psychopaths. 4% sociopaths. 5 % Narcissistic Personality disorder. 10% Alcoholic. 10% drug addiction. = 30%

Interesting to me, Nuerosis = 30% in This World.

The remaining appears too busy working to offer much support. Clearly, something is wrong in This World?

Years ago, Les smiled and said, “You don’t suffer, Fools, do you?!”

I smiled back, “And your point is?”

Today, I see his point.

I can be difficult with those who lack awareness. It’s almost as though I think it’s my job to educate them one at a time. Rarely, if ever, are my awareness classes treated with the educational opportunity that I’ve intended. Perhaps my delivery is wrong. My motto of Lead-Follow-Or Get Out of the Way hasn’t really caught on either.

Silent repose might be best going forward?

I’ll let you know how that works out.

I am an Alcoholic and I have been sober for north of 18 years. I don’t think about drinking alcohol, nor do I crave alcohol.

I was telling my sponsor today that I can’t be around Untreated Alcoholism anymore. The definition of the alcohol personality is Childish, Emotionally Sensitive and Idealistic.

He laughed and said, “You are officially an Old-timer…

I won’t bore anyone with the details of how I came to this conclusion; I’m just happy to have arrived.

My coffee was exotic.

The cream was thick and chill.

I was feeling down like burnt malaise.

But for that, they had a pill.

The model came from Instagram.

So hot, it seemed like crime.

Necks all snapped, and heartbeats capped.

Traffic halted on a dime.

There was liquor and a base beat.

And the rest, I’m not so sure.

There was lust and fussed and upper crust.

And my intentions less than pure.

All

Jordan Peterson said that anyone born before 1895 had it rough. Poverty and backbreaking work were the order of the day.

Considering that 2 world wars and a global depression followed that date; I don’t think that it’s a big stretch to state that very few people living before 1945 had a life of leisure.

We have been living in a time of Unprecedented Wealth & Prosperity for essentially my entire life.

However, it appears to this humans observation that humanity has not adapted well to this prosperity.

The lower and middle classes of society have a higher standard of living than the royalty of 200 years ago. Yet we complain about the slightest of inconveniences when we are really rarely inconvenienced in a comparative historical context.

The super wealthy rarely seem satisfied with what they have, and there seems to be this unquenchable thirst for more.

This latest focus on the proper use of pronouns and everything that goes with that… has me thinking that this leisurely life has passed beyond the threshold of human capabilities.

It’s difficult to imagine the effect that the Depression had on the people that survived it…

The people I observed looked at money as if it were both the curse and the cure.

“How much does it cost?” Should have been the title of their national anthem.

I would rather starve to death in a puddle of my own piss than to ever have to utter those words.

I look at money as a tool. To get what we need and want. I have been called a ‘Spendthrift’ by those who who are forever saying, “How much does it cost?”

Holding on to a few dollars like a squirrel holds onto a nut and counting and recounting and digging it up and counting again.

Apparently, according to my daughter, squirrels have bad eyesight and rarely can find the nuts they bury.

My first day on the oil well patch was also my last. I made it as far as the camp, which was nothing more than 4 50-foot mobile trailers set in a square pattern in a desolate gravel pit near Brooks Alberta. I was debating with myself if I really wanted the job in the first place. The debate didn’t last long.

I was introduced to the Roughneck John Crell by the Foreman Ronnie Earl.

“John will show you around while I look for your paperwork. “

John Crell stuck out his huge right hand and smiled, “You can call me Johnny.”

He was about 6’5″ and weighed and 240 pounds, I figured and not much older than 25 years.  He gave off an air of confidence and a bright, warm smile. “Come on.” He motioned me to follow him. We rounded a corner; he pointed. “There is the bathroom and the showers.” A few more steps and another corner, and we were in what looked like a kitchen. Johnny turned and stuck his face in mine. He almost whispered. “Take this job, and I’ll kill you.”

I think I smiled, but I don’t know.

“Jesus Johnny… usually, I need to get to know someone at least 10 minutes before they threaten me with death .”

He smiled and looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear him before he spoke again.

“I’m not kidding… don’t say you weren’t warned.”

I passed by the foreman and said, ” This isn’t for me, Mr. Earl.”

He shrugged and shook his head,

“We’re having a hard time finding people.”

I studied the look on Johnny’s face as I said. “No doubt. “

I wasn’t sure if I was looking into the eyes of a very large and dangerous psychopath or if Mr Crell was just having a really bad day. I didn’t stick around to find out. The road to Banff is a beautiful drive.