Relieved To Not Know

Crazy people don’t know that they’re crazy.

But, what if I SUSPECT that I’m crazy?

What if I’m Suspicious; nay, DUBIOUS of the voices in my head telling me that I MAY be crazy or that I’m crazy to think I’m crazy….?

What if I can’t trust myself, because I know me; I know how I can be. I know how many times I’ve let myself down…

I’m the kind of friend to myself that I love but can’t really trust completely or count on in a crisis.

They/me always lose their/my s*** in terse situations…

Fold like a lawn chair.

But, I keep on forgiving me…even after all the times I’ve let me down. Because, I know, deep down, that I love me in my own special way but, I know that I’m crazy sooo…

I get a pass….

I mean, I’m pretty sure I love me but, I also know that when times get tough, sometimes I’ll disappear or blow things off as not disastrous as initially thought and I’ll lie to me if my butt is on the line or think I’ll get mad at myself.

But, what if I AM crazy?

What if I’m really no friend to myself at all?

What if I’ve just been using myself?!

What if ignorance really IS bliss?

Does that mean that since I am a “naturally” happy, vivacious, fun-loving, morning, midday, afternoon, all-day person that I’m really just overly ignorant living in this utter bliss, bathed in crazy?

What if I am normal?

What if….I’m. Normal?

Oh. My. Heck.

What if….

I am normal crazy?!

What if, all the talking in my head, the anxieties, the mini-disaster movies playing thru my mind, ALL OF THE CRAZY that I am CONVINCED that I am, is really….just in my head….?

What If….

All the definitions and nuances that the world accepts as standards to be considered “CRAZY” were invented by a “normal crazy” person?

But, we all know that there are no normal people.

So, HOW THE HECK DO I KNOW IF I’M CRAZY OR NORMAL!?

Jesus was the only perfect person that I am aware of but, he was too nice & loving to tell anyone that they were crazy!! Remember the guy and the swine?! Jesus didn’t tell people they were crazy, he just heals them.

How can anyone tell me that I’m normal?

I can believe it when they tell me I’m crazy because of the adage “Takes one, to know one”

“I can smell your crazy”

*shudder*

What if I’ve been normal this whole time?

What if I’ve never actually been crazy!?

WHAT IF I HAVE REACTED TO EVERY DISASTROUS SITUATION IN A NORMAL, FULLY FUNCTIONAL WAY!!?

What if…?

If I’m not crazy, I’m gonna be PISSED.

Without my crazy, I will have absolutely no excuses for my behavior, to fall back on.

Crazy, you complete me.

I need my crazy; it’s so obvious.

But, what if I’m really really the only normal person that has ever existed; other than Jesus, I mean?

I wonder if Jesus had his crazy moments…?

What if Jesus….wondered if HE was crazy? Hearing heavenly, ethereal voices, seeing angels, talking to dead people…?

….thinking he is the son of God….

How crazy is that, he’d think.

What. If. When Jesus found out he was perfect, but KNEW he didn’t FEEL perfect, totally convinced that he was NOT PERFECT.

What if Jesus worried about stuff…?

Do you think Joseph Smith thought he was crazy? Himself, I mean?

Would I think I’m crazy, if I had a prayer answered by God & Jesus, in person?

Or would I know that I wasn’t crazy because, it was real?

I’m sure God would let me know that this wasn’t crazy town, that it was actually him…

But you can’t trust crazy, can we?

Can you POSSIBLY imagine what a 14 yr old Joseph Smith was thinking when he walked out of that Grove of trees behind his small house, known what he now knew? Looking at his home, his dad in the adjacent field, the chickens in the yard, his mother looking out of the back door, with a look on her face, wondering why he was in the woods; the clothes drying on the line, slowly moving in the breeze.

Did that just happen, he’d have thought?

Normal thought right?

Or, is it?

Am I crazy?

How do I know?

They say that God talks to people all of the time but, other people always tell them that they’re crazy.

What if God is the voice in my head telling me that I’m NOT crazy?

That I’m only normal crazy?

I hate being normal.

It’s so obvious, now.

Crazy to think so.

January 17, 2019 2

Year 1, again.

Just checking out the new editor on WP.

Retitled, requoted, repictured my profile.

Got tags fixed, linked social sites are good to go…

Now, all I have to do is start all over, AGAIN. Bare/Bear my soul, AGAIN…

I have a pretty good idea which way to go and how to treat everything I want to do with my blog; this time round.

But unfortunately, I have to work for a living and I’m tired.

I hope all of y’all had a good Christmas. TTYL

Trey

January 9, 2019 0

2nd Resteps…

This week I am anti-religion and I left my wife.

Plus, I ate a piece of white bread despite my dubious diabetes diagnosis…

And, its only Wednesday.

October 24, 2018 2

Consistently Loopy

Wow….

I’m telling you what….

If you don’t post everyday or drop a line or opinion everyday, your WordPress fans go away. Not that I had any really but, dang, I have to work for a living and do other important grown up stuff.

I wish I could write everyday…….or come up with something interesting, provocative or controversial or entertaining at a moments notice for my “audiences” viewing pleasure but, I’m only a hack writer and somewhat of a weirdo and have absolutely no talent or unbroken attention span.

IMHO….

I like making stuff up or exaggerating about a life event; mine or someone else’s?

Ok, I lie.

I don’t really like writing or giving an opinion on politics; especially not in today’s world , nor in this current partisan mood.

Twitter will KILL me!

It seems like the older I get the more I am concerned with the world around me and the future of my species.

Does it you?

Why should I worry about that, anyhow?

Is it because I have kids and grandkids?/

Is it because I want them to have a peaceful and fruitful life and a beautiful world? /

Of course, I do.

I’m not a freaking monster.

Would I worry about the world after I’m dead if I had, had no progeny?

I’d like to think I would but, unfortunately I am anti-social with borderline personality disorder and am completely self absorbed, so….fuck’em.

The same thing goes for my opinion on religion/s.

I am what you would call….non-commital.

I believe that organized religion is corrupt in God’s eyes.

I believe that God still talks to man but no one knows it.

I believe that Jesus was the literal son of God, just as we all are.

I believe that there have been many men and women that have been “touched” by the finger of God and have taught many many essential truths.

Sorry, my train of thought just derailed….

I am becoming more jaded, the older I get.

The more I put my opinions or thoughts down on the screen and reread them, I ponder my words and come to the startling summation that I am either crazier than hell, a grumpy old man or a normal Joe Schmoe…..

That’s probably the scariest thought….am I actually normal?

No, that’s crazy, I know I’m batshit.

I have to be. I can’t be normal!

That would ruin my whole deal if I was normal!

I’ve been under the self diagnosed assumption that I am crazy, off kilter, a dysfunctional unit, a piñata that’s full of shit.

If I’m normal, I am going to be very disappointed in God when I see him.

If he tells me that I was the only normal man on earth, after everything single mean thought I’ve ever had, shoplifted piece of candy, cruel or biased judgmental observation, every dirty sex thought(I’m a freaking pervert, I swear) or any bad thing that has flashed thru my drug and or alcohol addled mind at the moment, I’ll kill myself…again.

Right there, in front of God, I will blow my freaking brains out.

I can’t be normal, I just can’t!

All of the excuses I’ve ever had won’t be worth a shit!

Ok, that train of thought complete, let’s continue: shall we?

I know I’m crazy.

I’ve read up on it!

I fit like 4 different patterns of mental illness!

I don’t like talking about politics because I hate hypocrisy and everyone else’s opinion is bullshit.

Same goes for religion….

I am what I am.

I am spiritual.

I am bi-partisan.

I love my country but believe national borders are wrong.

I also believe there are evil people and that hard, unpopular decisions must be made to protect the innocent and meek among us; to protect freedom of will, choice and worship.

I believe that our way of life hangs in the balance, as it has for generations upon generations.

I believe that we are not alone in this universe.

It’s illogical….and arrogant

The place is just too big, and its still growing.

Change does that.

Evolution does that.

Innovation, prosperity, war and famine….does that.

We used to throw rocks at the moon and some people on this earth still make huts out of cow shit so, there….

How’s that high horse riding, now?

Our planet, to the best of our limited knowledge based on rules, guidelines and words created by fallible men, is said to be 4 billion years old.

Oh, words are hissing noises or guttural noises and we have spelling bees….

This world does not need us, we need it.

I know that I am nothing.

I know that I am everything.

I know that I am a miracle of evolutionary progress and I used to pee in my pants.

I know that change never ends.

There will be others after us…

Just imagine.

I believe that it is the doom of man that we forget

…….and I can’t remember shit.

Thx for wasting time with me.

July 1, 2017 2

Sober Rain

Maybe this can help…someone.

The rain began to patter on the window that looked out over my best friend’s small garden.

I was holding her frail hand, you know, the one with her so called “green thumb”.

I smile at this…

She always giggled when she told me that she could kill a plastic plant…

I’ve seen it happen.

But now her eyes were closed, hardly able to breathe….

….. today was a good day for her though, considering everything….

She may have been asleep but, her fingers gripped mine as hard as she could squeeze.

I could barely tell I was holding her hand at all, as weak as she was.

It’s so painful, beyond belief really, to try and imagine strength draining away from the strongest person you have ever known.
….like sand in an hourglass.

I laced my fingers thru hers, gripping them a little harder, tracing the veins on the back of her hand with my other fingers.

I can’t believe I’m losing her….

My bestest friend in the whole world is dying………Dying!

[RUMBLE]

I can hear the thunder in the distance, the rain coming and going, the branches of the trees scraping lightly across the panes of glass

In the storm graying light of the small bedroom I turn back into time to think of our lives together.

I have done this more than usual lately….

Six months…..seems like yesterday.

It’s been years, really….

Too fast…
…..Way too damn fast.

Doesn’t it seem weird that when you are about to lose someone close to your heart, a piece of your very soul, that we start to reflect on our memories of them more, as if though trying to burn them deeper into our hearts and minds….

It’s as if though we are afraid that we might forget something important….forget them?

I remember when she was sober.

I look at her face as she sleeps….
She’s so beautiful……..even now.

My flower is fading….

The sun is leaving her eyes.

The rain reminds me that I must not cry……

Cloud tears trickle down, the beads of sky diamonds ornament her window…..

I’m not going to cry…not now at least.

She gets upset when I cry.

I sit there, holding my friends tiny hand, staring out the jeweled window as the storm drums the shutters.

The lightning is bright, the thunder is closer….the rain, more insistent…..

I can smell the trees.

I begin the stroll down our memory lane; it isn’t raining here.

There was only laughter, joy and our high school prom.

(I got to first base….ha ha…slut…ha ha)

Seems like forever ago…

There was only skinned knees, gum in our hair and friends we shared.

It was all a dream.

It couldn’t have been real.

It was all….too perfect.

[RUMBLE]

I am brought back from my breaking heart to the bedside when I feel her stir under the blankets….

The thunder moves her.

Her eyes are open and I follow my dying friends hooded gaze.

She’s looking out the window, watching the storm.

Shadows of the window panes, rain drops and lightning dance across her face…..

She is quiet….

Dying sober, thank God….

Oh so still…..

God? Where have you been….”God”?

I notice a small tear is running down her pale cheek and across her dry lips…

She did it all to herself.

(Drunk bitch)
I fucking hate her.

I reach up and wipe the tear away with my finger.

All of a sudden, I feel guilty that I’m alive.

She grabs my hand and presses it to her lips and then drops my hand with a tired sigh.

She turns her face toward me….

I raise my finger to my lips and kiss what’s left of her tear….

She gives me that shy grin of hers and turns back to the storm.

“Will you do me a favor?” she asks in her beautiful, weak voice; the stormy sky reflecting in her dimming, pretty eyes.

“I don’t know” I say “I’m kinda busy” I grin.
(I hate you for dying)

She squeezes my hand again before turning to look at me, her gaze imploring.

“I’m serious” She says.

My face softens, I will not cry….
(You did this to yourself, all you had to do was say something)

[RUMBLLLLLLLE]

“You bet” I whisper, both my hands pressing hers to show my promise.

I can’t squeeze her hand too hard…..

She lives very close to pain that I can’t imagine.
(This could have been avoided)

So easy to avoid….(It’s my fault)

She turns her face back toward the window as the rain dances across the roof, the thunder making the panes tremble….

She says “Think of me when it rains….”

I cannot cry in front of her….

I will not….I won’t!

My best friend in life is slipping away like a dream, like water thru my fingers….
“I hope it rains forever” I say….

Her eyes are closed now…

Her fingers relax in mine….

“It doesn’t hurt…” she whispers….”weird” she breathes.

I thank God for this small answer to my anguished prayers….and I curse him.
(This is all your fault, you ASSHOLE!!!)

“No…don’t go…” I say

I feel like the asshole for being alive.

I never thought that would be the last thing she would hear from my lips.

No God….not her….

Not my friend…..

(I HATE YOU!)

Take me instead, I’ll go. I’ll go right now!

She…..

She dropped my hand.

Her heart has finished its toil.

I can’t breathe….I gotta get out of here….I…….can’t…..breathe….Oh my God!

Oh my God!!!

She has gone from me into the storm….

……she lives where lightning is born, now….

Our lives will continue as my memory….

I guess I should cry now….

But, I think it would still upset her…

…..no matter.

She did it to herself so, fuck her.

I will dance in the rain with the memory of my friend, and we will laugh…

I rejoice in the fact that as long as I live, she will be there with me.

SOBER

She will watch our children grow.

SOBER

She will watch our children become best friends.

SOBER

It is time for me to weep for my lovely…

I thank God for Heaven and eternal life….

(I’m sorry I yelled at you, God…earlier)

I’m….just…….mad

Oh my God, why is it so hard to breathe when I think of her?

I don’t believe in heaven, only hell is real.

I can hear her voice in my head…

“Cry baby”

I smile….

It’s true….

She’s here…..right now.

SOBER

….sorry again, God.

I didn’t mean that part about only believing in hell.

I’ve seen pieces of heaven, sometimes; here and there….

Our heaven is alive in the thunder and rain.

I will think of her….then
(But, why….?)

She did it to herself…..

Selfish bitch! Why didn’t you say anything!?

She could have stopped anytime she wanted.

I shouldn’t judge, really.

I’m an asshole, too. So forgive my outbursts.

I’m gonna stop tomorrow….

….for her.

May 22, 2017 5

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

Richard…Adios

I am tweeking an earlier post in tribute to my wifes brother, Richard Peoples, who recently passed…

Get along little doggie….
The Dying Rain

The rain began to patter on the window that looked out over my brothers backyard garden.

I was holding his frail hand, the one with his “green thumb”.

I smile at this…

He always laughed like hell, when he’d told me that he could kill a plastic plant…no problem.

I’ve seen it happen.

But now his eyes were closed, his breath labored.

….. today was a good day for him, considering everything….

He may have been asleep but, his fingers gripped mine as hard as he could squeeze.

I could barely tell I was holding his hand at all, as weak as he was.

It’s so painful, beyond belief really, to try and imagine strength draining away from one of the strongest people you have ever known.
….like sand in an hourglass, it seems….

I laced my fingers thru his, gripping them a little harder, tracing the veins on the back of his hand with my other fingers.

I can’t believe I’m losing him….he’s been here all my life

My big brother, bestest in the whole world, is dying………Dying! Like a normal people!

[RUMBLE]

I can hear the thunder in the distance, the rain coming and going, the branches of the trees scraping lightly across the panes of glass

In the storm graying light of the small bedroom I turn back into time to think of our lives together, times apart….

Too much time spent apart, life getting in the way and all that

I have done this more than usual lately….regret

months…..years….?

Too fast…

…..Way too damn fast.

It’s as if though we are afraid that we might forget something important….forget them?

I look at his face as he sleeps….if you can call dying sleep.

He’s so handsome……..even now.

My big brother is fading….

The sun is leaving his eyes.

The rain reminds me that I must not cry……

Cloud tears trickle down, the beads of sky diamonds ornament his window…..

I won’t weep…..

Not now at least, he gets upset when I cry.

I sit there holding my brothers big old hand, staring out the jeweled window as the storm drums the shutters.

The lightning is bright, the thunder is closer….the rain, more insistent…..

I can smell the trees….

In my heart of hearts, I begin the stroll down our memory lane; it isn’t raining here.

There is only laughter, joy……family.

There is only skinned knees, gum in my hair; friends and family we grew up with….

[RUMBLE]

I am brought back from my breaking heart to the bedside when I feel him stir under the blankets….

The thunder moves him.

His eyes are open and I follow his hooded gaze.

He is looking out the window, watching the storm.

Shadows of the window panes, rain drops and lightning dance across his face…..

Richard is quiet….Still.

Oh, so still…..

I notice a small tear is running down my big brothers pale cheek and across his dry lips…

I reach up and wipe his tear away with my finger.

All of a sudden, I feel guilty that I am alive.

Richard grabs my hand and presses it to his lips and then….he drops my hand with a tired sigh.

Richard turns his face toward me….

I raise my finger to my lips and kiss what’s left of his tear….

He gives me that shit eating grin of his and turns back to the storm outside his window.

“Will you do me a favor?” he asks in his Cajun drawl; a weak voice now; the stormy sky reflecting in his dimming, big brother eyes.

“I don’t know” I say “I’m kinda busy” I grin.

Richard squeezes my hand again before turning to look at me, his gaze imploring.

“I’m serious” He says.

My face softens, I will not cry….

“You bet” I whisper, both my hands pressing his to show my promise.

I can’t squeeze hard.

Richard lives very close to pain that I can’t imagine.

He turns his face back toward the window as the rain dances across the roof, the thunder making the panes tremble….

My brother says quietly, almost a whisper, he says “Think of me when it rains….”

I cannot cry in front of him….

I will not….

My big brother is slipping away like a dream, like water thru my fingers….

“I hope it rains forever” I say….

His eyes are closed now…

His fingers relax in mine….

“It doesn’t hurt anymore…weird” he whispers.

I thank God for this small answer to my anguished prayers….and I curse him.

“No…don’t go…” I say

I feel like an asshole for remaining here on this earth, for staying alive.

I never thought that would be the last thing he would hear from my lips.

No God….not Richard….

Not my brother….

Take me instead, I’ll go. I’ll go right now!

He…..

Richard dropped my hand.

His heart has finished its toil.

I can’t breathe….I gotta get out of here….I…….can’t…..breathe….Oh my God! Oh my God!!!

My big brother has gone away from me, into the storm….

He lives where lightning is born….

He has all the answers now….

Our joined lives continue as memory….

I guess I can cry now….

But, I think it still upsets him

…no matter.

I will dance in the rain with the memory of my friend, and we will laugh…

I rejoice in the fact that as long as I live, he will be here with me.

He will watch my children grow.

He will watch all the children find best friends, be with our family.

It is time for me to weep for my big burly guy…

I thank God for Heaven and eternal life….

Oh my God, why is it so hard to breathe when I think of him?

I can already hear his voice in my head…

“Cry baby” he’d say….

I smile….

It’s true….

Richard’s here…..right now.

As long as earth lasts forever, He’s alive in the thunder and rain.

I will think of him….

My big brother is gone, until it rains.

October 19, 2016 2

Things To Ponder

If I reach one person, it will be worth it.

One talks to one…

“Oh, I read something the other day that got me thinking”

One+One = change

……eventually….

….hopefully…

Sit down.

Close your eyes and breathe.

Forget about the world and get into your own head.

Now….

Why is there war?

Why is there hate?

Why are there borders and fences?

Why do we hate the person that cut us off in traffic?

Why is there racism?

Have you ever really listened to the night?

How have we survived as a species this long?

Why …..?

Just why.

Why do we do the things that we do?

Do you know why I know there is no God?

Because every God created by man has never been this patient.

Zeus, Krishna, Yahweh, Appollo, Odin, Allah, yada yada yada…pffffft

Have you ever really looked at a flower?

A God, to my understanding of what a God should be, is not here.

We are on our own and we’re killing ourselves.

Nothing is forever.

All things change.

Death is inevitable.

Tomorrow is not real.

Our moral compass will not fail but, our ego can drown it out.

Ignorance is the greatest enemy.

Everyone knows this.

Have you ever really looked at a human and how miraculous they are?

It is the doom of man that we forget.

My thought?

We never had a clue.

Save us from ourselves.

Have you ever wondered where it all went wrong?

Me either.

But, I am now.

There are too many humans on this earth and “God” knows it.

So does all the other Gods, plus Mother Nature also knows.

The balance is wrong…

Just a matter of time

October 2, 2016 1

Oh, Well….

My stats suck.

I guess I’m not doing it for the fame, though.

I started my blog as a therapy tool and it’s fun when people take the time to visit or comment.

But, it seems like here recently, most of my visitors are web-bots and scammers….

I know I’ve been writing about religion a lot lately but, I can’t help it. I’ll be 52 this year and I’m feeling my mortality and my morality.

I’m sure it’s a stage everyone goes thru; I’m just glad it doesn’t involve hot flashes.

I’m just glad I get visitors when I do and I appreciate y’all spending whatever time you can with my little blog.

Thx, Trey

p.s #ReblogsRock

April 17, 2016 4

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

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Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

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Spread My Filth!!!

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Spread My Filth!!!

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Spread My Filth!!!

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