Wednesday, May 09, 2018

I Can't Be The Only One - Clothes

This is unedited. Return sometime later to see how my edited writing looks compared to the initial vomiting.

    I’m not a cheapskate. I’ve splurged on meaningful things. I bought a nice set of congas, an expensive riqq drum, a hand made custon lefthanded flamenco guitar. For my kids I got a Burley bicycle trailer, an Osprey Poco child backpack carrier that looks like a fucking astronaut backpack with my kid in it.
    This is all nice shit. So… What happened with my clothes? The nicest suit I have is my Mariachi outfit. But right now I’m wearing a tshirt that says Daytona on it, and it’s color is what I can only call neon peach. I don’t give a shit about Daytona (don’t have anything against it either). My ex mother in law gave it to me. I’m also wearing pair of shorts that she gave me.
    A lot of my clothes I don’t even know how they got there. I remember buying some of them. Once at Khols and Dilards like 8 years ago. The rest is from Costco. Sometimes I go into Costco dressed from head to toe in clothes that I bought there. It’s like if a whale ate a fish, and the fish escaped with whale slime all over it, then returned back to the whales mouth (that doesn’t quite work does it?). Anyhow, I don’t feel bad at all walking around Costco in a full Costco wardrobe. The way I see it is that I can dress however I want, I’m a dad.

    One more thing. A good portion of my clothes are old. Good quality, but some I’ve had for a decade, maybe two. And, a good portion of my clothes stinks. It’s this fucking smell that I’ve tried everything short of acid to get out of them after having left them damp in the washing machine for too long. I presume most people would throw the clothes away. But, not me. Some neurotic folks who participate in the moral olypmics would probably give them to Good Will. But, come on. You’re gonna give someone some stinky ass clothes?

    So… WHY don’t I get rid of the clothes that stinks!!? I STINK WHEN I WEAR THEM. It’s probably one of those “I was a child of The Depression” type of thing. Everything about the clothes is fine, perhaps a tad faded, but buttons in place, collars not twisted, and comfortable material. My solution? When I’m gonna do something where I’m not gonna be close to people, like sit at the coffee shop by myself writing. That’s when I’ll wear it. It sounds like a good solution doesn’t it? BUT, sometimes in my house the clothes smell fine, and it’s not until I go out into the humidity that the scent of Florida fabric lets loose. (I can’t believe I’m letting you read this shit.)

    Anyhow. I think it’s time. It’s time to throw all the questionable wardrobe away. Not curse any poor soul at Good Will with them. I should make a bonfire and toss them in one by one, giving thanks to Thailand, China, the Philipine Islands for their labor.

    But, I’m somewhat terrified by the question. What will I wear next? How much will it cost? HOW SHOULD I DRESS? Should I wear my Mariachi outfit all the time? Haha.

    There’s a guy sitting at the table next to me who looks like he should be sailing a boat from Yacht Club to Yacht Club. There’s a man at another table… Geez, well at least I’m not doing THAT bad.

    I’m 44. I wanna dress 44. How does a 44 year old Mexican American musician/dad with a propensity for culture dress? Like Costco apparently.

    It’s time for some new threads.

Saturday, March 03, 2018

My Life Story

    This isn’t a story about a man who was defeated by the daily challenges of life. This is a story about a man who fought with everything he had to maintain his family, and to give his children the best life that he could. This is a story about a man who ventured to use his critical thinking when making decisions, and despite any demoralizing opposition, maintained the courage to do what he (to the best of his ability) thought was right. This is also the story of a man who willingly accepted accountability and responsibility for any bad decisions, and was more than willing to rectify them.

    This is a story of triumph despite the pain, and a story that – ultimately – ends like all others, except this one assuredly ends while walking an honorable path. Perhaps facing doubt, and not necessarily without fear, but most assuredly with courage.

    This, I give you my word on. (And can only hope the same for you, to my little ones.)

Sunday, February 25, 2018

Not Everything Scales

    One of the greatest misconceptions that I’ve had, and continue to see others hold is that anything can scale. Take Communism for example, I like my household as communist as you can get. I think a communist household is a loving household and a pleasant, nurturing place to live. However to scale communism to include the nation seems a guaranteed disaster.

     Now coming from the opposite trajectory. Capitalism may work in several ways when applied to a nation, but to scale down the same predatory ideology into a household? Well, living in a home where the dominant philosophy is a zero sum game doesn’t sound like a desirable place to live.

     So people still think that because something works at one scale, that it could be applied everywhere, not realizing that merely scaling something, larger or smaller, changes what it is. This seems to be a law of physics. A fly can smack into a windowpane unharmed because of its density and mass, and its density and mass compared to the atmosphere. But, if you were to make the fly 100 times bigger, it smacking into the window at the same speed would cause it serious injury.