It’s not just the fluffy and or cute!

It’s no bonsai by any stretch but the poor thing needed attention. I’ve no idea what it is but it deserved far more than it was getting. I don’t think it’s a weed and I really don’t care. It’s gonna make it!
It went into plant ER an hour or so ago. I threw at it, all I had to give short of some f***ing drug or radiation!

Here’s to seeing the power of giving a damn!

And I don’t know where to start or what to even say. Maybe like dancing, I’ll ask her to lead and we can burn up an hour or so.

… on a motorcycle. As I look back, I think I did it more than I just realized. Cool!

Racing! There are those who run up front. The fearless. And then there’s the slow saps in the back. The me’s.

Through the experience I learned something important. It didn’t matter if you were running first and second, or. first last and second last… by God you were racing and all you had on your mind was to be the inch or more in front of the other guy. You were racing, every sense, every muscle was either doing something or tensed in fright. All you had in you was working to its fullest. Maybe some parts, just a little more.

It didn’t matter if you were doing 150 or 110. The other guys skills were your match. It was pure adrenaline and it was good. No, it was a spectacular Rush!!

I need a very long and salty sea kayak experience F…ing soon. I need the rush, the danger. I need the fright. I need the oneness of me to race. I may win or come in last. Mother Nature may send me into my last wave. I don’t care as the result would have been worth it! I raced myself, I gave it my absolute best. And one of me won.

Sorry Marty. You’re failing

… in a glum sounding voice, has taught me that some things you read, could have only been written by someone that had experienced it. Something that even with the wildest imagination, couldn’t have expressed it so eloquently and accurately without having lived it. Keep going Marty, you’re onto/into something deep.

A. A. Milne, who penned Winnie the Pooh wrote something I just came across. I’m just a little horrified though of the thought that someone who wrote something so beautiful, suffered the evils of depression, isolation, de-socializing. Escaping into loneliness and often a quite frightening unknown.

edit: It’s thought that Mr. Milne suffered PTSD from the first World War. Go figure! God damn wars!

I think he did though and if my feelings are correct, he was masterful at taking pure evil, and turning it into empathy and compassion for so many well beyond his years.

edit: I’m wise enough to know I have a Wife, two Sons, a very dear Family and collection of wonderful Friends outside my mental ‘stick house’ there for me and I am so very grateful for you all. I’m wealthy beyond imagination in what means the absolute most to me. But for now anyway, I’m just a donkey under a lean to. Wishing others understood my thoughts but afraid they might. Just asking for understanding, not agreement or sympathy. Thank you all for stopping by and sticking around.

No more, no less!

Please read! Please?
It occurred to Pooh and Piglet that they hadn’t heard from Eeyore for several days, so they put on their hats and coats and trotted across the Hundred Acre Wood to Eeyore’s stick house. Inside the house was Eeyore.
“Hello Eeyore,” said Pooh.
“Hello Pooh. Hello Piglet,” said Eeyore, in a Glum Sounding Voice.
“We just thought we’d check in on you,” said Piglet, “because we hadn’t heard from you, and so we wanted to know if you were okay.”
Eeyore was silent for a moment. “Am I okay?” he asked, eventually. “Well, I don’t know, to be honest. Are any of us really okay? That’s what I ask myself. All I can tell you, Pooh and Piglet, is that right now I feel really rather Sad, and Alone, and Not Much Fun To Be Around At All. Which is why I haven’t bothered you. Because you wouldn’t want to waste your time hanging out with someone who is Sad, and Alone, and Not Much Fun To Be Around At All, would you now.”
Pooh looked at Piglet, and Piglet looked at Pooh, and they both sat down, one on either side of Eeyore in his stick house.
Eeyore looked at them in surprise. “What are you doing?”
“We’re sitting here with you,” said Pooh, “because we are your friends. And true friends don’t care if someone is feeling Sad, or Alone, or Not Much Fun To Be Around At All. True friends are there for you anyway. And so here we are.”
“Oh,” said Eeyore. “Oh.” And the three of them sat there in silence, and while Pooh and Piglet said nothing at all; somehow, almost imperceptibly, Eeyore started to feel a very tiny little bit better.
Because Pooh and Piglet were There.
No more; no less.