How Not To Pray

There are certain times in a persons life, and I happen to know this for a fact; that every person in the Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Hindi, Taoist, Shinto or even the “believers”, “followers”….

There are times when we all feel a need to pray…to somebody or something.

The overwhelming, not quite cognizant drive to fall to your knees and do…something, ANYTHING!

Despite what we have all been led to believe by other “learned” men/women on our blue marble, there are no rules stating that said prayers have to be about thanks, grief, vanity, money or whatever….suggestions, but as far as I know, the Lord’s Prayer in the Christian Bible, is the only one with rules on how a prayer must be done.

You know… Official like….

But, the rule that is non-negotiable or maybe just expected, is that you DO have to report in every now and again; rip your insecurities out, spill your heart on the floor, yell, scream, whisper, cry, laugh, beg for a horrific end to your mother in law……while on your knees; penitent.

Broken heart, contrite spirit.

Oh, the other rule….

Don’t be lazy if you can help it.

Knees are preferred…

This happened to me a few minutes ago.

I’m in a shower at the a truck stop; dripping wet, shaving cream on my face and Heavenly Father wants to talk.

So….we talked.

No choice, really.

Let me step back…and PONTIFICATE.

We follow the Bible and its teachings for a while, right?

Then we started to really get into worshipping it and wanted everyone else on the planet to feel our joy and love; so we went on crusades and missions and wars; righteously killing millions of heretics, pagans, witches, infidels, musselmen and assorted other Moors, Catholics, Protestants, Mormons and about 82 Branch Davidians….that the government, which was based constitutionally on these same biblical Christian values, didn’t like very much.

I wonder if the kids screamed while they burned….

And the list goes on; even today.

I don’t believe we’re as civilized as we profess to be, really….

But, I digress and I apologize.

I’m having my usual pessimistic outlook on life during this joyous season and I guess the Lord noticed, because I’ve been behaving badly and been kind of an a-hole, lately.

So, like I stated earlier in this post, God drove me to my knees in this truck stop shower; somewhere in Oklahoma. Dripping wet, shaving cream on my face, naked as a Buddha and Heavenly Father decides he wants to talk to me.

Well, I suspect now, in hindsight and reflection; that’s what we’re supposed to do after we pray…reflect; so, I’m freaking reflecting!

So, in this reflection, I think he was tired of seeing me mope around, thinking crummy thoughts, not seeing good in anything; basically being a pill and an a-hole, as stated before and possibly witnessed by many, including my very own self.

Isn’t it terrible when you realize you’re being an a-hole and don’t care?

You just want to hurt and be rude and judge and hypocrite…..more stuff; until everyone else gets butthurt and turns into an a-hole too, and joins my little pity party!?

Anywhos…

As I stared into the fogged up mirror; shaving cream on my face, razor held up by my right cheek, barely able to see my big, fat pink body in the mirror, except for the little spot I had cleared with the razor free hand and was presently fixated on.

I heard a still small voice and I recognized it for who it was.

I made the “What was that face?” for effect.

Thats when an urge fell over me, I can’t explain it.

I put down the razor, spread a towel on the floor; because its still a truck stop shower, I’m not crazy…and I knelt.

And I bowed my head before I spoke to the God of us all.

I bent my head in reverance to the celestial being that allows us to exist despite being a horrendous horde of ungrateful, destructive pieces of crap that occassionally celebrate a good deed WHEN IT SHOULD BE A NORMAL UNCELEBRATED THING TO DO A GOOD DEED AND LOVE ONE ANOTHER, LIKE WE WERE SUPPOSED TO FROM THE FREAKING BEGINNING!!!!!

“Dear Heavenly Father’ I said

“I thank you for everything that you have given, have taken away and for prayers that have been and have not been answered, thy will be done.

(OK, I got the initial disclaimer stuff out of the way.

I picture God sitting on a cloud somewhere looking at his fingernails making the “Come on, come on, I don’t have all day” hand motion.

Even though I know he has forever but, hey….

I am only a man.

One of billions…..but there you go.

Well, this man (meaning me) talks to God as if though God were a man.

“I am sorry I say the same thing over and over but, I don’t mean to but, you already know this”

‘I just find it hard to get into myself and tell you things I know you already know, seems redundant and unecessary”

*sigh*

“Is it a confession you want or am I’m doing this wrong? Why am I telling you things you already know? Why am I confessing things to you when you already know them? Does it make a difference on judgement day?”

Is it for forms sake?

*smh*

[*Heres where I slip back into repetetive dribble, which the bible expressly frowns upon]

“I thank you for my wife and kids, please protect them and help them to make good decisions and be good people and do nice things”

“I thank you for my job and I thank you for being reasonably healthy”

[Hesitation here because I realize that God has heard this all before, again.]

Blah blah blah…

It just became personal.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Lord”

[Here I look up at the ceiling, clasping my fingers tighter; I’m getting frustrated]

“What am I supposed to say, that I’m sorry, over and over?!”

How long do I have to apologize for being human!?

That I’m a piece of crap and I can’t do anything right and I’m sick and tired of everything?!

What am I supposed to say to you, when you know everything I’m saying or thinking and I still don’t hear poop from you, or at least I don’t think you’re saying anything back !?

[I stand up, turn my back to the steamy mirror, looking at another part of the ceiling; I throw my hands up but don’t say anything, I’m too old for this mess!!!]

[Moments reflection]

[I turn back to the towel on the floor, kneel back down, slowly shaking my head]

This is stupid….

“Thank you, Lord, for everything.

I’m doing a lot better than most and everythings not too bad.”

“I’m still a little nervous about thy will be done because I hate surprises but, I know, well, I HOPE that you have plans for me, regardless of what they are.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve been an a-hole lately and been kind of a pill to the Honey Biscuit and messing up her month with my OCD crap but, I try not to let my moods show too much.”

*sigh*

“The cool part about you is that you are the only one that truly knows me.

AND despite what others have witnessed and drawn their conclusions from, some well founded I must admit; you know that I am a good man, with a good heart that only wants super powers so I can save the world.”

“I know I’ve screwed up sometimes. Thank God for repentance; oh, I meant thank you”

*ironic chuckle* He knows what I meant.

Silly rabbit.

“I’m sorry, you know how I get.

” Thanks again for letting me live this long even though I’ve almost killed myself several times and oh, btw, I have no idea why you let me live this long.

To see what I’ll do next probably….

That’s just, mean.

“Thanks for letting me see the things I’ve seen, meeting the people I’ve met and letting me believe that I ain’t as bad as I tell myself that I am”

“Dear Father”

“Help make me a better man. Help me do something to make a difference. Help me to be more patient and a loving Husband and Father. Help me to be a gooder man.”

“Dear Heavenly Father”

“Help me to be more humble and long suffering.”

[This is when I realize I’m being all biblical sounding, again]

repetition….breeds scripture abuse.

[I lower my now dry forehead to my clasp hands and squeeze my fingers harder, really serious part coming up]

“Father”

“Help me be the man we know I can be, thy will be done. I trust you”

“In the name of your son, Jesus Christ…….Amen”

[I stand and turn back to the mirror which is steamy again because the shower is still going and the faucet is running full blast….]

[I wipe a clear spot on the mirror and look at myself]

I hear the still small voice again…..

“Peace, Trey.”

I talked To God today, in a truck stop shower and he answered me….

Oh, From me and God…

Be real.

January 27, 2019 0

Day 2 In Yuma

The title to this days blog kinda sounds like a western novel or movie or something, don’t it?

Uh oh, wayward tangent alert!

Here’s some more “titles” (while I’m increasing my caffeine levels) Yes, I know…I’m a terrible Mormon.

“The Watch” A fast paced movie about minute to minute time travel.

“Coffee Man” A novel about love and survival

“Loading….” A sci-fi mystery about patience and murder.

“Potty Break” Action “packed” cinematic dynamite, edge of your “seat”, “explosive” thriller about letting go…

Ok, I’m gonna stop now, I can see where this is going.

Speaking of potty break…..

BRB

Ok, I’m back. The Potty Break movie had a weak “ending”…..no real substance.

Ok Ok, I’ll stop!

What has gotten in to me so early this Tuesday morning!?

It IS Tuesday, right?

I don’t know what day it is. My phone is off….and I don’t know how to find it on my baby iPad.

Ok, I just figured out that my gps knows what day it is.

It’s Monday Jr?

WTH?!

That can’t be right.

Wayward tangent alert, again….

I just realized that I’ll probably never hold a leadership position in my church because I “may” have used inappropriate language in MANY of my previous blogs.

I kinda cuss when I’m being all emotional and creative….

In my defense, and y’all know this just as much, if not more than me…

Sometimes a dirty word is the only word that can work in certain instances. It takes one to get the EXACT point across: to match the flow of our literary intent….

Or, we (I) couldn’t think of a better word.

In my defense, I only have 33 credit hrs of college. In Texas….

Lets go with the creative juices thing….

Yeah, I’m a Cro-Magnon.

Sometimes I say bad words, think bad things, contemplate mass murder…or is it spree murder?

Hey, you try being a truck driver that goes all over this country, thru tiny towns and big cities and tell me that you don’t feel like running someone off the road!

Good thing is that I can keep fantasy, fantasy. Realistically, speaking….

It’s much more cool in my head; the fantasy part.

I could never kill in real life with the same satisfaction or special effects that I do in my head.

In fantasy dream mode (ok, pretend you’re seeing that daydream thing like they do on tv, with the wavy screen)

Ok, in dream mode, when I kill someone on the interstate (99% of the time its a 4 wheeler; car) there’s lots of screaming, rubber squealing and smoke, metal screeching & crunching, glass shattering and the smell of poop. Oh, and there’s always lots of fire & smoke, blood, guts, people flying thru windshields, the satisfying crunch as my 18 wheeler smashes thru their wrecking cars and over their pavement strewn bodies…..

*shudder in ecstasy*

It puts the lotion on it’s skin….

Thank the holy moly, but in real life, the whole “You’ll not do well in prison” filter keeps me sane.

Plus, I’d probably feel bad later.

Hold up, let me tell Jesus I’m sorry for murder in my heart.

This is my Granny’s fault; all this caring about people and crap.

Social norms…..Not killing fools.

EMPATHY for heck sakes.

Crazy old lady.

She’s the one that took me to church, taught me about Jesus, God and the Holy Ghost!

More importantly, the whole burning in hell thing if I run over people on the interstate, or undress pretty women in my head.

I’d marry them! Don’t be so quick to judge!

I’m a softie but HEY! At least I’m not a sociopath or psychopath , huh?!

That’s good news on this early Monday Jr!

Ok, I gotta go pick up some vegetables and start rolling towards F’n Jersey.

Y’all have an excellent Monday Jr.

TTYT

February 6, 2018 0

Last And First

When I first started with WordPress, pert near on 3 years ago I do reckon, I was very prolific with my new posts. I was spouting off everyday, sometimes 3 posts a day; cranking out some good stuff, some bad stuff, but mostly inane stuff.

Fun though….

But, it seems like I have either burned out this year or something weird; I bet I haven’t posted anything new or noteworthy for quite a spell.

No, no I don’t have writers block. You have to be a WRITER to get blocked.

I am just a hack.

People that can stay focused, dedicated or obsessed in creating a work of literature, poetry or the like, or maintaining a continuing stream of thought that keeps others intrigued or interested….

That’s a writer.

I just get easily bored with nothing else to do.

That’s how I am, I guess; or the only excuse or maybe justification I can even use for my apparent apathy towards my sleazy, sticky, fumbling attempts at writing.

I know how I can get with things and it makes me even crazier.

I have the attention span of a $2 crackhead….or maybe a gnat.

Speaking of my creativity or lack thereof, my dwindling level of interest, my non-existent ability to focus on anything other than cooking shows or the Discovery Channel for periods longer than 30 minutes, my aforementioned miniscule attention span, my “creative juice” seems to ebb and flow.

Speaking of juice, my posting is kinda like my 52-year-old testosterone level, really….

At an elderly 52 years old (which I’ve never been this old before) I will unabashedly admit that I would kill for an early morning wake-up boner or WOOD as it is also referenced as by the male of our species; or I’d give a kidney for a boner with amorous intent or hell, I’d be grateful to the point of tears and snot for a boner at the worst possible time. You fella’s reading this know the kind of boner I mean….

A 7TH GRADER BONER FOR HELL SAKES!!!

The kind of boner that a cat can’t scratch or one that could cut diamonds!

Ahhh…the memories.

No, I haven’t any shame or ability to be embarrassed any longer.

I lost that on my 50th birthday.

The truth will set me free.

Anywho….

However, now that I ponder a little more on my bonelessness (is that a word?) I would consider selling my soul to whatever devil exists in this millennium to treat my long-suffering, dearly betrothed, regretfully abstaining wife to a good ol’fashioned Viking rape and pillage.

It would have to be a Viking rape fantasy playtime, if I ever get the chance. Last time I had wood, I was a masked burglar that jumped out of the closet to assault her and she shot me…..

Ok, I’m getting side-tracked…..again; see how easily I get distracted?

Told you….

[Quick present moment reality admission]

I made my morning coffee too strong. I have sweat running down my ribs and man boobs. I swear to God there is cocaine in Folgers 100% Columbian.

Hmmm….could be a connection here with my inability to write anything lately…..

Just add copious amounts of stimulants, give me a dose of inspiration or a reason to bitch (which could be the same , I guess) crack open the laptop, back away from the crazy person and watch the fat man dance.

It’s resolution time of course, and here are mine.

I will post updates, stories or assholes…oops, I meant opinions, at least twice a week; or maybe more if the caffiene is pure or when my testosterone is up.

Please, Jesus…..

I will practice more on my guitar playing and not on buying them.

I will sketch more.

I will get older.

Ok, good, now that that’s out-of-the-way.

I’ll talk to y’all later.

Good luck and Happy New Year

December 30, 2016 0

Understand?

Disclaimer: I am newly, 52 years old and I may be experiencing a mid-life thingy. I won’t call it a crisis because I’m not IN crisis.

Or, maybe that’s what the crisis wants me to think….

Stay back, paranoia!!

So, please forgive me if my blog may tend to wander thru mysticism, spirituality, religion, agnosticism, politics, the benefits of the mushroom in the worship of a great white buffalo or waiting on that UFO that dropped our ‘first parents’ off here, thousands OR millions of years ago; depending on your familial school of thought or how you’re particular faith-based group in your neighborhood led you to believe, in a botched attempt to grow a new food source that was stupid and got fat easily….kinda like cows.

I believe that an unseen deity put our first progenitors on this earth, naked…in a perfect garden and told them….BEHAVE.

Not even God is that stupid.

Oh, plus the fact that we’re in a scientifically proven and individually, visually confirmed huge ass galaxy that is surrounded by other, quoting Carl Sagan “Billions and billions of galaxies” end partial quote.

Follow this next thought with me….

If God was an actual scientist; and I believe that all evidence, that we naked apes are capable of understanding point to the fact that, He/She/I Am does occasionally dabble in the sciences.

If “God” wanted to create an experiment where he has access to unlimited material, unlimited time, unlimited knowledge, unlimited space and NO bosses or alphabetized federal agency looking over his shoulder, do you actually believe that he would only have ONE species as his primary focus? Even I, in my sadly, limited and Google accessible scientific prowess know that there is always a control group in ANY experiment.

…several control groups.

Oh lord, I can hear the Jesus, Mohammed freaks now…

“God doesn’t need a control group! He’s GOD!!”

Calm down! Stay back , I’m on your side!

(Sound of whip cracking and animals roaring)

STAY BACK, DAMN YOU!!!

Hell, here I go:

We don’t know if we are even the first attempt in this experiment…

We may not even be the initial, hopefully anticipated outcome of the experiment.

We may be a control group that is going bat shit and has been set aside on a shelf, checked every few million years for any change, be it progressive or regressive, the results recorded and noted for reevaluation at a later date.

(God in a lab coat, shaking his head, scribbles on his clipboard)

“Hmmmmm, not good” he says “Not good at all” then….he starts erasing…..

I think the great flood in the Bible was actually a heavenly lab attendant attempting to wash us out of a petri dish and God stopping him at the last-minute….

Ooooo…I think I’ll start a church.

Anywho, let me get back to my point (Man that’s some wicked coffee)

Mankind is arrogant.

Mankind is superficial, greedy, violent, narcissistic and collectively insane…

Let me quote Eckhart Tolle:

“The collective manifestations of the insanity that lies at the heart of the human condition constitute the greater part of human history. It is to a large extent a history of madness. If the history of humanity were the clinical case history of a single human being, the diagnosis would have to be: chronic paranoid delusions, a pathological propensity to commit murder and acts of extreme violence and cruelty against his perceived “enemies”—his own unconsciousness projected outward. Criminally insane, with a few brief lucid intervals.” – A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose.

But, then someone on this earth goes and does something selfless, beautiful and charitable….

Showing hope. Showing progress. Showing potential.

There is nothing more that the present moment in this existence.

The past is past; let it guide you, not define you; “It is in the nature of things that joy arises in a person free from remorse.” – Buddha

There is no future, only dreaming of one.

Tomorrow is optimism OR pessimism….depending on your mood but, tomorrow never really comes….

We are living moment to moment; because I know that, every one of us, have heard the saying “Man plans, God laughs his ass off” Well, maybe not exactly….that way…

“Few of us ever live in the present. We are forever anticipating what is to come or remembering what has gone.”
― Louis L’Amour

Jesus said, in the New International version of the Bible (translation attempt 554); according to Matthew 6:34 “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

Buddha also reportedly said “Ardently do today what must be done. Who knows? Tomorrow, death comes.”

That’s not being morbid, that’s fact…

We.Do.Not.Know…so why keep acting like we do?

If you have so much faith in a God, you’re supposed to let him handle everything, TRUST IN HIM.

How can people “faithfully” do that and worry about a tomorrow?

Another thing; how can you believe “faithfully” in forgiveness when you let the mistakes in your past affect you in the present moment and for that matter or allow people in your life to remind you of your past mistakes?

People that do that are the worst kind of ugly scar.

“God” is in us all.

“God” cannot be described

“God” is “I AM”

Think about that for a second….

Why would he say that?

How many times do we say that a day, “I AM”?

Are we comparing ourselves to “God” are we blaspheming or are we reaffirming our innate knowledge that we and God are one and the same?

“I AM Trey”

“I AM here”

“I AM doing something”

“I AM your friend”

“…..I AM listening”

Wow….I love exploration and self discovery.

I love traveling thru my mind…..

I just thought of something else….I know nothing, Jon Snow…

When I am typing and farting around on my humble blog, I am not thinking…..

I am just….being present……being here, at this moment.

By the time I wonder “What will the next moment bring?” I have already passed thru “that moment”

Hard to explain…

I’m sorry, I know I’m going on and on about drivel but, I just wanted to share my mid-life situation with y’all this morning.

I’ll leave you with this; and it’s true

If you only think about what you are doing right now, you have no capacity to worry.

Think about THAT

“Treat everyone you meet as if they were you.”
― Doug Dillon

“Do it now, then….?” – Trey (that’s me)

“If you are depressed, you are living in the Past. If you are anxious, living in the future. If you are at peace you are living in the moment.” – Lao Tzu

PS: We have had so many wonderful, enlightened teachers throughout history and we still don’t learn….

September 14, 2016 1

Tagline

I am a dude….

Yes, I know what you’re thinking

Or, maybe not because yer all a bunch of sick fucks

Once again, the statement….or admonition; depends on how you look at it.

Once again……I am a dude

I have done , or tried to do, magnificent acts of physical prowess to impress a girl.

I was a superhero….am……

I was young, I was dumb and I paid the price.

There was a piper, involved…..

I won’t get into specifics about what happened exactly but, there was alcohol, cocaine and testosterone involved.

Do the meth….

Bottom line….Resultado final!

I broke my coccyx: Butt bone

Yeah, yeah….The grass was wet, I had on basketball shoes, we were jumping….it was dark, there were large breasts involved…..

Then, Trey fell down, hit his ass; then couldn’t move for 5 days.

Do you know how many muscles and other critical components are attached to the bones in yer ass?

Yer lungs, yer stomach, yer breath….basically everytime I moved I found out that my ass was involved.

Every muscle, tendon, bone and nerve is connected to yer ass…..

I did not wipe…my tooshie

I drank water so that I did not have….meaty by-products….down, there…

Comparison: I have not given birth to a child.

I am a dude.

But, let me ‘splain something to y’all….

I think I was in my early 20’s when this happpened.

When yer ass is broke, everythng is broke.

Pain is bad.

I have never experienced pain like that since, THANK YA JESUS, and its loving memory has carried on for over 20 something years.

Nowadays, when I move, and I have a crick, twinge or spasm…

It’s my coccyx…

“OH! It’s my coccyx!!!!”

Get a glass of tea…”OH! It’s my coccyx!!!!”

Get out of my recliner…”OH! It’s my coccyx!!!!”

Make stinky in the prescence of the fairer sex….”OH! It’s my coccyx!!!!”

Pick up the grand baby to smooch it…”OH, TWO HEAVENS TO TOPEKA! It’s my coccyx!!!!”

I have a pain in my butt.

I think it’s my coccyx….

September 7, 2016 0

Lasagna

It’s kinda hard, writing

When your humble servant (me) first started with WordPress (WP) I was probably just like the majority of y’all;

Didn’t know how to use the regular editor thingy
Didn’t know, and still don’t know, how to use the CSS thingy
STILL don’t know how to promote my writings, poems, musings or my carefully rewritten and reorganized ummmm…..what’s the word for stealing other people’s stuff and acting like it’s yours?

It’s either, ‘plagarize’ or ‘inspired’…

They’re both so close in their meaning, because if you look up both words in the dictionary and read between the corporate lines, they are, pretty much the same thing.

I guess I’ll go with ‘inspired’ because I do it without malice of forethought.

That means I didn’t mean to steal someone’s stuff and make it better.

Besides I can argue all day about why I have never willingly or knowingly plagarized anything.

I don’t read other peoples stuff or I should say, can’t read….

No, before y’all get all crazy and indignant, hear me out

If I read words from a page, I mean, literally read words on a page from a book like entity, I will be asleep in less than 2 minutes.

I have been like this since the 3rd grade. That’s when Mrs Salter first noticed it in me.

I can’t read instructions, newspapers, scriptures or anything over a page long. Seriously.

I will pass out.

I don’t think it’s a problem with dyslexia because I’ve always been a good speller, good problem solver and such; plus, mathematics doesn’t do it to me. I’ll look up dyslexia and see if I’m using it in the right context.

hmmm…doesn’t happen when I write.

I just noticed something else….

Why is dyslexia such a weirdly spelled word that represents a ‘condition’ where people have difficulties with spelling or the correct sequencing of words?

Oooo, look. My first wild tangent in this post.

Anywho…

My life has gotten in the way of me writing as much as I would like.

eating
paying bills, willingly.
paying bills, that I have no idea why they are as much as they say they are.
Treacherous wife
Treacherous children; at least the ones I know about.
Work; I guess that would be a ‘gimme’
I wish I’d been born rich
Life changes before my upcoming 52nd birthday.

I never thought I’d ever write that statement “Life changes before my upcoming 52nd birthday.”

But…I’m glad, or blessed, that I have gotten as far as I have gotten in this life; this test, this probationary state.

Because, if any of you have ever read any of my previous “get to know me” or “self revealing” posts on my humble blog, you will know that it’s pretty much a miracle that I have lived as long as I have lived.

Note: If I say I’m humble, does that mean I’m not?

If you haven’t read them, let me just simplify it so you don’t have to go thru the torture of reading them

It’s a miracle I haven’t killed me yet.

I was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints on August 11, 1984; 32 years ago.

I was 19

When I came up out of the water in the baptismal font, I actually checked to see if my tattoos had come off.

Ignorant, yes, I guess; hoak’m maybe

But, man, I wish I had that feeling again.

It’s been the one instance that has seen me thru my fickleness for these past 32 years.

Yes, one moment in time, I knew that everything was gonna be alright.

….past 32 years….

I knew that I wasn’t alone, we aren’t alone. That, I knew secrets…and that I had to tell everybody.

If I had known then, as I stood waist deep in holy water, wiping the soul saving water from my eyes, what would happen in my life over these next 32 years, I probably would have asked the kindly missionary that had dunked me to dunk me again….until I quit kicking and tossing about and just floated, face down.

“Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me, if you understand.” – Job 38:4

I have free agency but, Who am I to question God?

There’s a lot more in that question than you actually see at first; read it again and ponder.

I have free agency but, Who am I to question God?

“Mortals, born of woman, are of few days and full of trouble.” – Job 14:1

I have free agency but, I must cry repentance?

I wish I could keep a fetching steady stream of thought on one particular thread of contemplation and insight.

Stupid adult ADHD….

C’est la vie.

I’m all over the place with this.

Have faith?

Oh yes…I think I do finally.

I think I have an understanding in the concept, thereof.

If you are a memeber of the LDS Church, you will understand this…if not, I will add some links for clarification and has absolutely nothing to do with brainwashing. (You are a chicken, you are a chicken)

I have been faithful to the law of tithing for a while now. Tithing

I have been faithful, as much as it is possible these days, to the Word of Wisdom Word of Wisdom

I miss tea and coffee…..WHY!!??

I am trying my darndest to pray each day, as much as possible, considering that I never really made it a priority in my life, plus I’m lazy, plus, I’ve always been like “Why, pray? God knows what I’m thinking or doing or what I need and what I;m thankful for, anyways. He’s a busy God; wouldn’t my stating the obvious to him just be a cruel redundancy or I’d be jamming up the lines for more needy and desperate or WORTHY souls to get their prayers heard?

It’s all about obedience to the word of God, I find out…dang it

Tangent 2….

I have so many ideas and directions that I can go with on this subject that I can’t keep my thoughts organized.

I think my writers block is gone.

Hallelujah

Anywhos….

I don’t know why I’ve gone in this direction with my blog.

Maybe it’s a natural course, maybe it’s a budding writer that is searching for meaning. maybe it’s because it’s time for everyone to start exploring their own souls and I can feel it in the air….

Maybe, I heard the voice of God in a prayer where I was saying nothing at all; maybe I was just listening for him, to see if he was eavesdropping on me.

He was.

I heard “Endure to the end”

As if someone was leaning over my shoulder and spoke into my ear, in a normal, level voice.

Not still. Not small

It happened.

I was there and I’m just as surprised as you are.

I opened my eyes. Got off my knees and sat on the edge of my bed. “hmmmmm”

That was strange.

Why’d he say that?

Not “OMG! God just spoke to me!”

Why’d he say that?

I know why. You know why. We all know why.

Endure. To. The. End.

So, I looked it up.

Endure: verb (used with object), endured, enduring.

1. To hold out against; sustain without impairment or yielding; undergo: to endure great financial pressures with equanimity.

2. To bear without resistance or with patience; tolerate: I cannot endure your insults any longer.

3. To admit of; allow; bear:

His poetry is such that it will not endure a superficial reading.

To hold out against?

To bear without resistance or with patience?

To hold out against, what?

To bear without resistance or with patience, against whom?

Hold out? Without resistance? Oxymoron?

Time?

Satan?

The World and all it’s ‘glory’?

God, himself?

I know what it is….

I have to hold out against myself….

The greatest obstacle, hindrance in my life is undoubtedly and unsurprisingly…..me.

I only have to hold out, endure to the end, against the greatest supervillin known to me.

Great.

No problem.

I have to think on this.

TTYL

p.s: Oh, the last meat dish I have eaten was Lasagna.

p.s2: I miss meat but, not really.

August 22, 2016 2

Elder Clarke Returns

The nice Mormon people sat in the church pews, surreptitiously glancing over their left shoulders as the doors into the chapel opened; breaking the air pressure in the big room, alerting the members of possibly a new investigator or an old crib Mormon coming to worship, and wondering even more so “Why’re they late to church?”

Sinner….

I was a little apprehensive to say the least as I peered thru the doors; the numerous heads turning my way, and the exploring, questioning, judging eyes.

Like walking into a room full of scary baby dolls….at your great grandma’s…

There were some smiles of course; or was the baring of the teeth an act of territorial bravado?

There were mostly frowns and straight, clinched, undecided lips.

A baby cried…

I also noticed that there were some indignance, impatience and irony scattered here and there among the congregant faces.

“Guilt” I think to myself “I feel guilty for getting here late”

That’s a good sign, I guess.

After all, I’d been gone for a long time; from church, I mean.

Definitely lending credibility to the phrase of “Better late than never”

…..whatever

Of course this all took place in the blink of an eye and a simultaneous breath, like most death-defying acts of bravery occur.

I passed thru the door into the chapel, heart thumping.

There was no lightning or burst of hellfire.

No thundering voice yelling “Depart heathen!” or a hissing, demonic “Get. OUT.”

Pheeww…

The echoes of my sliding steps across the carpeted floor were mind numbing to me; ringing off every hard surface like insane church bells being jerked up and down by a crazed hunchback!…. I believe I could actually see people wincing as their ear drums busted!

Young mothers screamed, holding their infants up as human shields; old men grabbed their chest and fell to the floor; old women rifled the old mens pockets and the young husbands grunted, opened their eyes, looked around sleepily, dug some Cheerios and Apple Jacks out of a Ziploc bag and munched on them all the while putting the binky back in the baby’s mouth; the preacher leaps over the pulpit, swinging a blinding crucifix around his head, pumping righteous death at me from the barrels of 2 golden revolvers, spitting Gods justice in molten hot lead!!!

Well, it coulda happened…No, wait….

That’s just my imagination. We ain’t got crucifixes in our chapels….or preachers; technically speaking.

The door shut behind me as I slid clumsily into the last seat in the last pew, closest to the aisle.

Peoples heads turned succedently, obediently, back towards the front of the chapel; the room pressure returning back to an optimal church worshipping level.

My ears were buzzing and I realized I had to pee.

“Welcome, Elder Clarke, been a while” came a voice from above…

Oh, speakers….

I looked around the room, scanning various faces that were looking at me again..

I’ve got food on my face, don’t I?

I wipe it off.

Is there an Elder Clarke in here? Weird…

“I’m talking to you, Brother Clarke” said the same all around me voice, followed by a slight microphone squeal.

Oh crap.

I’m a Brother Clarke….(I’m still looking around during this time freeze)

Microphone means speakers, speakers mean microphone, microphone MEANS PERSON TALKING TO ME!

Well, technically in the LDS faith, I am an elder but, I don’t consider myself worthy of the title.

I wouldn’t even say I’m a Jack Mormon. I’m more of a…..Doug.

“Yep, Wolf amongst the sheep” I mumble to myself; man, have I gotta pee.

I throw my hand up in a “Howdy y’all” half wave; the kind of greeting you give to a crowd of people when you are late to a meeting or event and gratefully accept the sentence of death pronounced upon you by the goodly town folk.

But, in a nice, Jesus loving way….

“It’s good to have you join us today; welcome back” said the person at the microphone.

He smiled at me and winked.

So, this is how it’s gonna be, huh?

Dirty pool, Bishop.

Note: (That’s what we Mormons call our dirty, rotten, lying, good for nothing, treacherous ward leader)

No, not really. He’s an excellent human being. Ugly kids though….

He promised me yesterday that he wouldn’t call me out in front of the whole ward (that’s what we call our….wait….I don’t know why they call us “ward’s”. You look it up. I’m writing, here)

I threw him a curve ball.

Making a wide, sweeping glance around the chapel, I pronounced “I just got back from my mission, Bishop”

He still smiled but, I saw a look quickly pass over his face.

What was that….intrepidation, fear? Nooo….

The dirty bugger can’t wait to hear what I’m gonna say.

Touché mon ami….

How’d he know…… Dang!

I hate it when people talk to Jesus behind my back and figure me out….

“A mission?” I hear a voice ask; somewhere off to my right, slightly behind me.

I follow the trailing echo of the voice and locate the source.

A teenaged girl. Cute, brown hair, invisi-braces….those questioning, Doubting Thomas green eyes.

Not, the Bishops kid, I surmised.

“You’re too old to go on a mission” the highly astute young girl stated.

I said “You’re never too old to go on a mission” I smiled, sarcastically but, in a loving Jesus way….

She flipped her hair, turned her smug little, snotty face towards the front of the chapel, denouncing my presence in her sphere of supremacy and pronounced the obvious..

“I see you around all of the time, Mr Trey (that’s my name) How can you be on a mission when you never left?”

Smart girl.

I hate smart kids; used to beat them up.

**Back and forth banter (I hate having to put ” ” after each quote; bugs me)

“Well, dear, I was on a mission of sorts”

“Did the church call you for your mission?”

“Kinda”

“How can they “kinda” call you on a mission?” *snort laugh * Where’d you go on your “mission?” *12-year-olds faint laugh of derision*

……..silence for a few seconds.

Everyone is looking at me.

I feel tears coming.

My face feels hot all of a sudden….

I hear the Bishops voice; not on speakers….right next to me.

I look at him.

He puts his arm around my shoulders and winks at me again.

“Elder…Clarke (he grins) told me this yesterday”

I hear the low rustle of people in church pews paying closer attention. Y’all know that sound.

“Tell them where you served your mission, “Mr Trey”.

Everyone is looking at us, I can tell.

I turn to face them.

Deep breath…. Funny, I was breathing just fine a second ago.

“I went to Hell” I said

…….quiet from the cheap seats.

Absolute.Quiet.

I think the crying baby was even listening now.

Baby’s are smart.

They talk to angels until they get older and learn how to forget Angel stuff.

Bless his heart…

I know this little boy was sitting somewhere across the aisle, invisible to me; lost among all the big people surrounding him.

“Did you baptize anybody in…you know; where you was at?”

*low snicker* *mom quietly hushing little boy* *grunt, rustle of Ziploc and Apple Jacks*

“Just me” I said

This was too good for all the tweens in my new audience; the missionary scholars…

“You can’t baptize yourself!”

*louder snickers* *quiet slap of a low five*

“You’d be surprised” I said.

My gaze wandered to the front of the chapel, a picture of Christ hung there….

It was the Jesus picture that stares at you, follows you around the room.

I stared back, got dizzy.

How does he DO that?

Once again, hushingly “I was in Hell for 20 years….

I felt the Bishops hand squeeze a little harder on my shoulder; I looked back at the curious people in my ward.

They looked back at me, noticing that my voice had changed, my eyes, my face….

I heard “Mommy, Mr Trey is sad”

“No he’s not, baby….” hushed Mommy. “He’s happy”

I smiled at her.

My voice is husky now….

“I was in Hell for 20 years, here…..and here” I first pointed to my head, then my chest.

*Small voice from cheap seats*

“Is Hell bad?” it said

I sat there for a few seconds before I leaned forward; grabbing onto the top of the pew in front of me; knuckles turning pink, red then white, from my grip….

“Yes….” I said.

“Yes……..”

10592739_309434649228541_4702930826788118450_n — “Yessss….you could say that”

July 17, 2016 2

It Goes, Bump…in The Night

Where does depression come from?

It comes from recent rain and rainbows; music from your past, a babbling brook that loves to gossip; fresh cut grass that makes your tennis shoes green, or it can come from a beautiful woman that takes your breath away.

I’m a dude…

Depression can come from a baby laughing, the weird word on a roadside sign, the way you may see a person treat another, good or bad, or it can come from that sudden flash of understanding “Egads!” or a new, breath-taking perspective about something you weren’t even thinking about in just that moment; as a matter of fact you haven’t thought about it in sometime then…”BOOM” there it is….

“I’m Rich!”

Then, there’s the other place that depression will come from….

It can come from the dark, when your eyes are closed and your mind is supposed to be at rest.

*Mine hardly sleeps anymore*

It can come to you in the night; where things will go “bump” or watch you from your closet.

When the dark inspirations come, it is the type of nightmare that nightmares hope they never have….

It’s really real, man.

I would not categorize what happened to me last Night, whilst in my heavenly repose, as a nightmare exactly…

I did not twitch, jerk, wet my bed; sweat profusely or wake up screaming; tangled in twisted blankets, all of my pillows on the floor….

*There was a struggle*

I woke up, quietly.

My eyes did not jerk open in alarm or horror.

They didn’t open the way our eyes normally do.

They opened the way they do when you’re afraid of what you might see.

*What is that noise? *

“Am I back?”

Not “awake”….”Am I back?”

I remember whispering that to myself, this morning; I laid there for a while, in the dimming light, only a small, gray sliver of sunbeam from the window to stare at.

This is what struck me a little later….

I had gotten up slowly, musing on how real the “episode” in my night terror had seemed and how much of it I seem to have remembered.

It wasn’t like your typical dream, or mine usually; running thru our fingers like water or sand as Dickinson would say.

*You can’t remember *

This time, this one was sticking in my mind….

I dressed slowly, I got up slowly, I moved slowly….

I was exhausted from the dream burden that I now carried in my heart and mind.

*It’s all your fault*

*It’s all in my head*

Later, as I walked up the echoing sidewalk toward the office under a cloudy, morning sky, I stopped.

I thought…

Why did I whisper “Am I back” and not “Am I awake”?

Did I actually go somewhere else?

Did that mysterious part of my brain know something that I didn’t?

How else could I explain the sudden return from the undiscovered country of my mind, unless it has known how to get there and back in the first place; like it’s been there before, as if though it were a real place.

One thing was for sure…

I don’t wanna go back there.

*I do not control my mind*

*Depression is real*

The place…
The depressed place…
The really real, dude….

It is a dark place where you go to scratch at old wounds and make them bleed.

It is a place where you cannot cry;

…only watch and scratch….

It is the place where you talk only to yourself…but you never listen.

*I’m not crazy*

But, in whatever Gods infinite goodness may be, however you look at goodness;

…there was no running or screaming in the “place”, nothing chasing me, nothing breathing in the dark…..

The only monster there, was me.

*I am in the closet, watching*

This is the place we go to, to re-visit mistakes and regrets; as a restrained and gagged bystander we sit and stare; a silent witness to your own stupidity and ignorance; back in the day.

*We scratch and scratch… *

It is the place where you re-live your past and there is NOTHING THAT YOU CAN DO TO CHANGE ANY OF IT!

The only power you have is to toss your head in your sleep and moan “no….” “No….”

Or worse….stay awake.

*This part sucks*

You don’t gasp “wake up” because you don’t know that you’re asleep; you know…I know, that this is as real as it gets…

*Really real, dude*

In the awake place we can force ourselves to quit dwelling on the past, to get on with our lives, to quit “beating ourselves up”; we’re only human after all, we all make mistakes.

Not there; not in the undiscovered, dark continent of our minds.

The monster that is you sits across from you in a small room and begins to tell you a story…..

*Same old song and dance*

It is a long story, it is a true story.

….oh, so true….

*That’s what sucks the most*

“Am I back?”

You cannot protest, you cannot cover your ears, you cannot look away.

I have to look at myself, as I drone on….and on.

The worst part is, is that you are unable to believe the excuses you’ve made anymore…

You are older now, wiser; plus, you know you’re a lying bastard. You know your bullshit…

*Don’t fall for it*

Your monster that is you, knows that you’re a liar….

He knows how I can be….or was.

And he will never….EVER, let me forget.

But, you still try to soften the condemnations….

This isn’t really real, dude….is it?

“Am I back?”

When the monster that is you has finished with his tale, you just sit there, swathed in fresh guilt and regrets, all of the old wounds beginning to fester anew.

The fresh whip marks across your shoulders, face and back burn and gape.

No one can punish you with such ferocity and relentless spite and contempt, as can the very own monster that is you.

“Look what you’ve done” it
keeps saying…..

And I looked…..

Then….

slowly……

I opened my eyes.

My eyes did not jerk open in alarm or horror.

They didn’t open the way eyes normally do.

They opened the way they do when you’re afraid of what you might see.

“Am I back?”

p.s

I’m sitting here in our break-room writing this. I am looking around at the vending machines, a gurgling coffee pot and occasionally glancing up at the humming lights. I’ll tap a key or two on my laptop as a new thought or memory about last night comes to me.

“Am I back?”

I can’t tell…..

It feels….

….like that other, place….

Wish I may…but…
It’s dark in here…

It’s always here….

May 5, 2016 0

That Was Fast

I am a frightened man…all the time.

Is it normal to get over the age of 50 years old and become even more afraid of death?

Usually when we are about to reach the finish line we are ecstatic, proud of our achievement “I HAVE FINISHED THE RACE!!!”

Not now….now it’s just “FUCK”…..that was fast.

I don’t tell lies in my blog, at least that I am aware of, because I will honestly admit, I have told lies in the past that I was NOT aware of.

I call them “reflex lies” so as to avoid punishment, admission of guilt, criminal intent and/or divorce.

I can’t call them “little white lies” because in todays world I’ll be labeled a racist.

I’ll call them “PC” lies

My humble blog is the only thing in my life that I can honestly say I MUST keep real, at all cost!

I have lied to myself and others for way too long….

In this blog my words are real because they are not spoken…

Here it is…. In a nutshell.

I am headed to the age of 52 years old this September.

52……

Fuck….that was fast.

I have never been a half century old before.

I am steadily and increasingly surprised and somewhat alarmed at times on the reflections of my life and the never ending contemplations of my mortality that I have, of late, been experiencing

I am scared…totally scared to death of death.

I am cautiously optimistic…that I might be the one man on earth that has the mutant ability to live forever.

….realistically, quantum mechanics type of pessimism, too, I’m afraid.

Fuck….

I am getting older much faster than I was when I was 21….

Do y’all feel that way too?

Shut up, millenials, you haven’t even began to fear life yet.

And hush old people! You don’t know my psyche! LOL!!!

I hurt in places where I never hurt before…especially in the chest area….and my legs.

I know it’s all in my head….

When I get really tired, I get slight head rushes and little stabbing pains everywhere.

Yes, I know y’all are diagnosing me. I already checked with WEBMD and found out I have Shingles, Herpes, Aspberger’s, a cold or rabies…..

I think it’s rabies, myself.

Oh….there is hair growing where hair shouldn’t be growing and it is wiry and gray; it smells weird, too.

The general consensus about my life, in my view and probaly lots of others feel the same way, is that I have wasted most of it.

Oh, sure… There have been good times, wonderful times….

Clapping and dancing and all that jazz.

But on the whole…?

I could have, should have been/done/lived, more.

You, too?

Weird, how much we’re all alike.

I cheated myself because I took myself and everything around me for granted, it’s realy easy to do in America.

That’s what most of us do, we humans, on the most part, we take most of our lives and time on this earth for granted.

And we honestly don’t think we are. We don’t mean to….it’s just…you know…..gonna last forever.

That’s the crux of taking things for granted; we don’t think of it like that, we don’t think about it much at all until it’s gone.

We get so used to living we forget to “live”, pardon the pun that I’m sure is a pun.

Life is…supposed to happen.

Life here on the blue dot is supposed to have trials and triumphs I guess but, on the most part, our length of time nor quality of life thereof is promised.

Death is the only certainty, not taxes. I haven’t filed taxes for years and I’m still here! Ha Ha!

Death don’t work like that, but the hardest thing to actually believe is the only thing guaranteed; in life, during life, after life; once we start to breathe on our own, not even tomorrow is a surety or the next breath.

Oh, I’m not trying to be fatalistic. I’m really a pretty, positive person.

I’m here, I’m breathing, might as well do my best and hope I get to stay for a while, right?

I can’t dwell on the unfortunates of my life…it is a sin to kill yourself after all, according to most beliefs, and I would BLOW MY FREAKING BRAINS OUT if I let me dwell in self pity and regret.

Something else real quick, a snippet thought; I wasn’t concerned about my planet until everyone else started screaming “The sky is falling!” That can apply to a lot of areas.

Selfishly, I was only concerned about me… even when I was married and had kids.

They, it…. The whole damn thing, never seemed quite real.

I was there….. But, not there.

Now, I think about them all the time…. Kids, planet, homelessness, terrorists, cell phone charger…

I’m worried about life 51.2 years after I started it.

That’s the funny part… If it was funny.

You’re not laughing…..

Me either.

Now shits gettin’ serious.

Fuck….that was fast.

NOW I’m concerned…

Good thing I’m a closet optimist with a bi-polar mind…

Keeps me in check, to a point. If not, I’ll get drunk, fall down and blame it all on God.

I will be writing and posting about my thoughts on becoming a “ancienter” (my new word) this week.

It will be my personal writers therapy, so to say…”

I don’t wanna bum anyone out and I don’t think it’s ALL that bad, really.

But this is why I blog; this is why I started this blog…

Too work thru my heart with words…and hope y’all, dear readers, help me out.

These words I can’t speak, only Imagine.

This post seems relevant today for some reason…and now, I’m done; for today.

Fuck…that was fast

P.S Denial…

It’s all I have left that is truly mine.

March 3, 2016 0

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this: