Expunged...& wave of the day

No, He don't.

If he did, he would probably be a kook.

Wave Of The Day

Ignore the politico edge to the surf photo above, just dont think he would, if he could, surf. That would be his problem, not mind. If my heart was as messed up as his is, I'd cut the stress, bro, fo' real.

The women of the house are going to Maui 'morrow. What for, beats me. I guess Aunty R wants to see her family, and Lady C & The Maimai girl are tagging along. Working is in for me, so I will be slugging along the path of least control.

The days move by so bloody fast. My schedule of work this job, work that job, and inbetween move a tree, finish the bathroom, reorganize the storage, etc. etc, ETC! Is not making it move any slower. I guess it is up to meself to quiet down the pace, even if I am naturally hyper. More like hyper-hyper. Coffee doesnt help that either, now would it? There are times when i can slow the runaway train down, just a tad, by going deep into nowhere land.

Nowhere land.

How would i describe it? If i were a Doctor of medicine, it would maybe be classified as a TIA, or a Transient Ischemic Attack. "Zoning out" or a recoverable mini-stroke, or space-out. More likely it is a turning inward, a spell of time where i am thinking, but ever so deeply, about, really nothing. Just floating thoughts around, ideas, memories, glances back in time. Recalling pictures in my head of whatevers, surf, people, snippets of experience.
The thing about that is, of late, it just wells up shit in me. By saying "wells up shit" is the best descrption I have of welling up tears. And crying is a weird thing. It isnt really sorrowful crying, neither is it joyous. It is just, for want of a better pharse -

"shit welling up"

Flaky crusted, maybe, but deep inside there is reasons. Reasons I may not be too clear on, reasons that may be clear. Emotions. Feelings. Senses. What is it? It is some non-descript non-tangible thingy, that just happens.

Then it gets expunged.

It'll be gone, my manhood will be intact, and the shit goes away. Not that tears are not manly, but walking around town streaming is no way to present ones self. And a facade goes up, it repels the questions, it rejects the interview, it relents to the norm.

Kinda like being a quitter.

I hate quitting.

Trudge on dear heart, accomplish what goals you set for yourself and others, depend on nothing but your own mind, your own ability, your own way.

Do something.

Do it well.

Give it your all.

Words of inspiration, words of hope.

Ramble on.

Good weekends to all.

Aloha!