I Don't Know Why

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Test Run

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Restless Head Syndrome

I've toyed with the idea of changing the blog venue again. The first one I did in the way early 2000's was a political thing that ran it's course and then the second one was a restaurant/food thing that was too narrow and whenever I wanted to talk about other stuff than movies/food/music etc., it was way out of place and then there's this one which had a good start but kind of goes all over and I'm not sure what I want it to do, if anything, at this point. I'd like to say "I blog for me" but that would be a lie. The people who want to do that and can do that are lucky. I can never and have never been able to get rid of or discount the audience. Mostly because if it was "personal" writing you'd never see it. It would stay personal and in long hand and not be broadcast all over creation forever. I think bloggers who "personal blog" have way more guts than I do. there is only so far I will let anybody in unless I get to know them personally & see them regularly. Not to mention like what I see. I'll only go so far online.

This isn't really a big, heavy thing though. Mostly I get bored and want to try something new. I like setting up a new blog. It's like a new coat of paint. And because I'm pretty OC when you come right down to it I want it perfect. I need to have the url match the title in some fashion and have it all themed out somehow. I know... I can be such a housefrau right?

The other thing is that I am often embarrassed by past posts. I have to be honest, I change my mind so often about stuff I'll bet I could find a post I made somewhere in bloggoland that refutes another post I made in bloggoland at another time, proving once and for all that it probably isn't a good idea to try and get a fix on what I actually believe one day to the next.

I've also noticed that no matter who you are and what your blog is and what you write about, the "crew" changes over time. You look back at the folks who comment now and compare them to the ones at the start and only a bare few stalwarts remain. And I think this is a natural thing with blogs. People come and go. Sometimes we get tired of each other's usual shit, y'know? It happens. Other times you come upon a blog and go "where's THIS been?" And you're in. I think it works a lot just like relationships IRL. It's only natural.

So I've been working on a new place for a few days and will unveil soon. But this and the others - all the others - will be going away. I'm a slash and burn guy. Plus there's one blog I have that has a lot of stuff that will soon be submitted to publishers and agents and they don't like it to be sitting there when they look at your stuff.

So if there's anything you wanted... go get it now or forget about it.

The fun will happen sooner than later!

What You Don't Know Can't Hurt Me

My mistake is that I need to ask people if they are kidding or they are serious before I act on the signals they give that should be telling me if they are kidding or serious, because sometimes people give whatever signal at whatever time just to confuse you as to whether or not they mean one thing or the other. Right?

I'd save myself, I think, a lot of trouble if I did that. Whatever it is I just said.

Over the weekend, in a generally positive social setting, I was reminded of something I did 40 years ago by someone who had a smile on their face, right there in front of everyone in what I thought was a convivial setting. Thinking, because this same person just moments before was instructing me on how people just get over things in the past and that's the way of the world, I figured they were sort of making a big joke about this thing I did and so I played along. I thought. But somewhere between my ear and my mouth it turned out I must have missed a sign telling me that - no - this thing I did was something they weren't ready to get past, except everything was done in this crooked smile to make it look like they were just kidding, and no matter which way I took it, it was the wrong way to take it. And in our group even people who (should?) know me better were doing the opposite of rescuing me from this trap I found myself in, siding with the person who had the crooked smile sending the mixed signals. Whichever way their wind was blowing at that moment.

I mean to say I didn't realize I was being chastised for something I did 40 years ago in front of the group. I thought I was being teased and it's a no big deal joke so if I teased back that's what you do and we're laughing only we stopped laughing somewhere along the way. What I guess I didn't realize was that I was, actually yes, being chastised for real in front of the group - only I wasn't because of the goofy smile - but if I took it seriously I'd have been wrong. Except it was serious again when I tried to make a joke about it.

At about that point was when I decided I couldn't wait for the night to be over and I have to admit scratching my head about what the hell that was all about all Sunday long. To the point it wouldn't actually matter to me if I saw these people again or not because when i thought it was just teasing I played along until it was serious after which it was obvious I was taking everything too seriously.

Can I just ask what the heck I do to pull this kind of shit in? I recognize I have to be careful about that question because if the people I hang with heard me say it they'd say I was taking it too seriously. Unless I kept making a joke about it in which case I would be viewed as insensitive because (as I was told) "well obviously it still bothers them."

It would never occur to me to wait for a moment in a group conversation mixed with opinion and memory to openly chastise someone for something they did 40 years ago. If I was pulling somebody's leg it would be a leg pull and would (shouldn't it?) end in some kind of self- deprecating joke just to reinforce the idea that I wasn't blowing anybody any shit and I'm as big a bozo as anybody else here and what started out as a gag ought to end as one so hahaha have another drink.

Or - for the love of God - am I doing that wrong too?

Come to think of it this isn't the first time it's happened with this combination. Once, in the middle of a Christmas holiday get together I was asked about the group I hung with on Sundays* and tried to explain it as best I could, only to be given a long list of reasons why I had it all wrong and, in the end, was actually told - in these exactly words - "that's exactly how Charles Manson got started." And I know they knew what they were saying because the next morning at breakfast they came over very subdued and were wondering if I was pissed off. Which, because I'm the next thing to a follower of Charles Manson I'm not supposed to be. So this isn't the first time I've been seemingly ambushed where no matter what I do the set-up is I'm just wrong. About whatever.

And all this even though in the last ten years or so I have made a concerted effort to - a willful, obvious, determined effort - to let everybody "in" who wanted "in" and go out of my way to communicate and exchange with people I had little in common with over the years. As we wind down I figured it would be really a good idea if I was just, you know, FRIENDLY?

There are reasons I find it very easy to stay out of social settings and go along quite happily with things just like that. There are reasons a quiet YEAR OR TWO at home without mingling with any friends or my extended family does not seem like a sad hardship whatsoever. There are reasons why I used to hold everybody at arm's length and never - if ever - let anybody into that last mile.

This kind of thing is one of those reasons.

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* I'm a recorded member of the Religious Society of Friends

You Won't Want To Miss The Next Exciting Episode Of...

OK, well, we tried out the manchego cheese last night on that salad and it's a new favorite. Turns out I did have the authentic Spanish kind & watch my back... I'm going back in!

MrsRW is finally back from Boston and tomorrow we're having our favorite fellow gourmets (our restaurant roving partners) over for some tapas, which I am going to make from scratch / by hand / all by myself.

Here's the menu...

Prawns and bacon... Patatas Bravas... Red Onion and Orange Salad

Assorted olives... Meatballs in tomato sauce... Manchego and Serrano Ham

Deviled eggs... Apple and Walnut combo

Hope I don't screw it up. Have a nice weekend!

Old School Bullets

I'd probably find it easier to believe you when you tell me "it's not about his race, I just don't like his policies" in the parlor if I didn't hear you telling jokes about big lips and Velcro in the kitchen.

I think it comes down to this... marriages fail because of selfishness. One way or another. It will always come down to somebody being selfish. Conversely I think they succeed on the foundation of unselfishness. Distill every issue down and see if I'm wrong. I can't talk about women but for guys it's like this; It stopped being about you the day you got married. Any dick can make a baby, it takes a man to be a father. Get over yourself. If your wife and kids aren't happy, you're doin' it wrong. Thus endeth the lesson.

There seems to be a vast ocean of people who want to get in the big leagues without doing any of the slog work in the minors. Unless you are a savant, talent is generally raw and doesn't become anything until it is honed. That's why they call it a craft I think. You worked at it. Most people who become an overnight success do so after years of obscurity and grunt work. It used to be called "dues" in the old days. Turns out you still have to pay them. You can do it before, or after, you hit the big leagues. But you have to pay them one way or another.

I think people who are all about supremacy of any flavor or reason never really saw a picture of just how minuscule the Earth is in comparison to the rest of the universe.

It's not that you have the sound system in your car at full roar with everything but the bass line turned off as if to announce your presence in such a way that we're supposed to cower at your power and natural intimidation, vibrating your vehicle and everything else in a thirty foot radius to the beat of your aura. I get that. That's not what bugs me. What gets me is that this is just so 90's. Dude....

I never really started to write fiction well until I stopped describing what characters looked like, used nothing other than 'said' to describe a character's verbiage, and finally got the idea that something has to be happening all the time. After almost 40 years, I've been writing fiction at a top level for two whole days now.

If you are a young entrepreneur (under 35) who has had a little success in your life you automatically have a long road to go to get me to believe you are not a complete asshole. I hate to lump a group of people together like that because that's how racists get started, but please see the fourth bullet above and kindly stick it up your ass you sarcastic entitled son of a whore.

Have a nice day.

RW Eats Alone

I do 98% of the food prep in our house. I like it and I've even taken some basic classes in a few things. But I do it also out of necessity because my wife - who is a far, far better cook than I am - is on the road half the time now.

I started doing the cooking when I was separated from my last job and had - what I look back on now - one of the best summers of my adult life. I was out of work for about three months, just at about the same time we used to have summer vacations when we were kids. That was about three years ago, I think, and there has been more than one morning this summer where I wished I was out of work again (a feeling that lasts about thirty seconds until I wake up and thank God I have a job at all). But it was a beautiful time, strangely devoid of angst and concern about getting employment again, in which I did all the cooking, raised vegetables in the garden, returned once again to the writing crap, and truly reveled in re-experiencing that "endless day" summer vacation phenomenon we all had when we were kids (why can't we bottle that?).

So, in looking at the blog, I'm running out of things to say.

It's boring for people when I get on too long about the writing - every other blogger in the world is working on their damn book - and how much can you talk about it? "Oh I did a helluva paragraph today, my God it was beautiful!!" Yeah right... I seriously do want to back away from politics because I'm convinced I'm the only person on Earth who has my viewpoint (a combination of Old Right isolationism and anarcho-syndicalist economics). And I have given up on following along on Top Chef like I did in years past simply because it's been done.

So how about... you want to know what I'm making? Yeah, this'll last for a couple of weeks, right?

Well too bad, that's what I'm posting. So BLEGH!


Turkey Manchego Salad (By Sara Quessenberry, August 2010)

Serves 4
Total Time: 15m

* 1/4 cup olive oil
* 3 tablespoons fresh lime juice
* 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
* kosher salt and black pepper
* 2 medium carrots, grated (about 1 cup)
* 4 ounces green beans (about 1⁄4 pound), sliced crosswise
* 4 scallions, sliced
* 1 head romaine lettuce, torn into pieces
* 3/4 pound sliced roasted deli turkey
* 4 ounces Manchego cheese, sliced

1. In a medium bowl, whisk together the oil, lime juice, cumin, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Add the carrots, green beans, and scallions and toss to coat.
2. Divide the lettuce, turkey, and cheese among bowls and top with the carrot mixture.

I've never had manchego cheese (it's Mexican / Spanish) but I'm told it's light-flavored. And when I saw this recipe I hesitated because I'm not very high on turkey/chicken etc. salads from restaurants. They're always either too cold or too stiff or not fresh enough. But I'm using some good old-fashioned roasted turkey breast from the deli and everything else - everything - comes off the local/organic pipeline. Where possible, anyway. It's pretty inexpensive and takes 15 minutes, so if I add a whole lot more turkey than it calls for it should be fine. A nice white wine and some bread on the side and I'll be fine. This is scheduled for Thursday. I'll let ya know.

Should I do more of this?

Act Your Age

So okay, I don't understand it because I haven't done much of anything that's been different over the years but cripes guys, sometimes I just goddamn hurt in the morning. Like the base of my spine feels kind of weak when I first get up and sometimes there's a really ba-ha-had twinge that makes me wince a little bit when I get out of bed. For about three weeks the knuckle under my index finger felt like it was getting a great big case of arthritis and I couldn't get rid of the pain no matter what I took or did. Now it's gone. But I sure as hell can't eat greasy food anymore. Holy man, my stomach just can't take it. I don't know if that's a function of having been more careful about what I do eat over the past year or so and the body is just saying oh for God's SAKE or if the old gut - after years of abuse - is finally just not working like it used to. I cut grass yesterday and - in that humidity - I was wiped out. We had a local Taste Of... fest in our town this weekend and - the plan was - after taking MrsRW to the airport Sunday, I was to go home and cut the grass, shower up, and then head on down to The Taste to supply myself with dinner. I got as far as the shower... and decided to make a couple of hot dogs and collapse on the couch.

In my thirties I was dedicated to a workout regimen that resulted in a nice little six-pack mid-section and all that stuff. Bells and whistles and yadda yadda. Oh I was seriously ripped. We'd go on vacation & I'd still get up early to work out. That kind of thing. Even though I have never been completely UN-active I don't work out like that any more and I am seriously flabbed. I also notice that, when I get motivated and back into it for any length of time it takes, like, three times as long to see any results. But mostly I just make an excuse and go have a beer and put my feet up and forget about it. What motivates me now is seeing guys around my age have this gut that sort of juts out to what looks like an actual ridge above a cascading belly. Like, skinny legs and skinny arms and this great big tub with a detailed promontory just below their chest. It like has a sharp edge just before it bellies out. That's weird. I'll admit my mid-section needs a lot of work but it doesn't have that ledge so it's not all bad. Well, not usually. Cough. But what the hell are we thinking, guys? How one look at something near to that in the mirror doesn't get a person back to running is beyond me. And yet... it doesn't seem like my running does all that. And sometimes the best thing to do is just come home and have a beer. Oh well.

Anyway I do notice the same strength isn't in my fingers. I seem to need new glasses every six months or something. I'm not thirty and I'm not forty. In three years I hit the big 6-0. If I croak when my father did that means I have four years to live. As of last month both daughters are now in their thirties. Older women - women my age - are looking pretty damn good to me. I get winded faster. There are curious twinges once in a while in places I didn't know I had. I heal up from cuts and bruises slower. And it takes more and more vodka to get a buzz. And I can't drink like I used to without wanting to just go to sleep or take a couple aspirin because it gave me a damn headache.

But I've never been more at peace with shit in my whole life. Isn't that weird? Now if I could just get my wife to change her mind about not letting me get a pork pie hat life would probably be pretty damn near perfect.