Sunday, December 26, 2004
Lameduckin'
Wrappin' up the year...oh yeah. I was ready for 04 to go away, even though it means I'm approaching a big age milestone. I'm going to be 50. I absolutely cannot believe I'm that old. I don't FEEL that old, I'm certainly not emotionally mature enough to be 50. But here it comes. How in HELL did I live this long? I've not had a quiet, gentle life. Didn't want one. I've loved pushing the edge as far as I can remember. BB gun fights as a kid with motorcycle helmets and visors (except I had a plastic army helmet and Dad's safety goggles), bicycle runs down steep Oklahoma hills, moving to Florida and learning to surf, then going out in the wildest, craziest storm surf because I had the really BIG waves all to myself. Getting a car, then another car, then buying my brother an even faster car. Driving motocross bikes at night with no lights, wide open. Running from cops in cars so fast I never got caught. Dated girls faster than our cars. Dated girls with insane ex-boyfriends who could whip gorillas in open combat. Chased by alligators, near-misses with rattlesnakes, coral snakes, cottonmouths, copperheads. Treed by a bobcat once. I once climbed a 50 foot pine tree to a platform 35 feet up over a lake (I'm afraid of heights), chickened out on jumping off into the lake, turned to climb down and fell off. Dove off a surfboard and grabbed a baby hammerhead shark, kept him for a pet all afternoon, then let him go. Stayed stoned on pot pretty much every day from age 11 to 24, and never got caught, either by parents or law enforcement. Dad figured us out, found our "farm", and even saw us smoking once, but by then he'd given up trying to stop us. Did the usual drug experimenting, downers, speed, cocaine, LSD (LSCrazy, we used to call it). These were the days before crack, thank GOD.
I drew the line at needles. Dated a nurse, she walked me through the horrors of hepatitis, since we were pre-AIDS back then. Decided I could get plenty high without jamming things under my skin.
No matter what, I have great memories. And sad ones. Mainly, I didn't want to be bored. I didn't want to just piss away my time, I wanted something to happen, to be DOING something.
now, of course, I'm a computer sloth with a blog, but as I'm healing up from my leg infections, even that's not taking up so much time. I'm actually setting Dad up so he doesn't need me for a few hours, and visiting friends. I came up with the words to pull a depressed, suicidal friend out of his downward slide and get him back on track. He says he owes me. I say he doesn't. Lost six pounds last month. Hoping for 7 this month. Life moves on.
Unsolicited testimonial: I bought, at a HUGE savings, a Mustek MDC6500Z digital camera on EBay. It was a GREAT camera, all kinds of special features and adjustments, far superior even to my Argus 5-megapixel camera. Then things started to go wrong. My Mustek wouldn't perform certian functions, the hold-down on the battery broke. I discovered it was still under warranty, contacted them, mailed it off with proof of purchase. I got it back 3 weeks later. Well, sort of. They decided not to fix the old one, and sent me a brand new one that works like a jewel. I've had it back a week, taken over 100 pictures in all kinds of weather and lighting conditions, and it's flawless. I love a company that backs their products. WTG, Mustek!
Know what I got for Christmas this year? Nothing. Know what I wanted and asked for this year? Nothing. All I wanted from anybody was either cards or E-cards, and I got plenty of both. Everything I need, I have. Most of what I want, I have. There's just no room in this little house for more. For some reason, I like that a lot. The not needing anything part, you understand. The clutter part...STILL working on that. Probably always will be.
I gotta find somebody that's holding a clothes drive for overseas. I used to know this nice Catholic woman that collected literally thousands of clothing items, washed each one, matched them when possible by size and gender, and some organization she was affiliated with flew them to some impoverished area and held a public giveaway. One year I donated a Johnny Carson suit that I'd worn once to a wedding, complete with vest, belt, shirt and tie. She managed to get on this flight, to some little area in Peru. She told me this old man came up, about my height (5'6"), and, after a few moments, spotted that suit. He asked for it, and she told him first come, first served, so it was his. He walked behind some bushes in tattered shorts with sandals and very faded, ripped Hawaiian shirt, and emerged in my suit, stylin' and smilin'. She laughed, telling me the kick they got out of him sashaying down the street in his new duds, walking like he owned everything in sight. I've got some other nice things that, even when I'm thinned down enough for them, probably won't wear them anymore. I know we have domestic charities that will take them, but if you notice, they have RACKS of clothing already. I'd rather send them some place where, to the recipient, it's the COOLEST piece of clothing he's ever seen, and it's all his. I'll let you know if I find somebody that handles donations like that.
Heard Crosby Stills & Nash's "Almost Cut My Hair" today. Reminded me of why I don't cut mine.
What with the enormous damage and death toll from the earthquake and tsunami, there are plenty of countries (Sri Lanka, Indonesia, Thailand, whatever's left of the tiny Maldives, etc.) needing supplies of all sorts. Clothes might be helpful. Medical supplies might be helpful, too, if you've got friends/neighbors who'd be willing to pitch in & help with the relief effort.
Merry post-Christmas,
Kevin
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