Paid to Play

Fall arrives, the weather cools, the veils between worlds go all gossamer...my season. Echos of school beginnings, of a new social year, the arrival of American football and holiday-laden months, all vistas change, feasts in the offing, the Spring of self after all the extroverted days of Spring and Summer. Standing at the door, just enough time for a look-back before hard-charging.

 Personally, well I said back there that I'd comment again on some of this, read back and see. Still concerned that deliberation and vision are getting less respect that they deserve; experiments are often mistakes and there is no emotional eye-wash station or big industrial hood to clear the air if the reagents react...poorly. Most folk blunder into failure and betrayal driven by dopamine and endorphins to such a degree that they wake up fucked (often literally), looking at the mushroom cloud. No awareness of the slippery slope descent into risk and moments of misery, just eyes on a shiny prize...usually between someone's legs with after-images of a cozy afternoon on a different  (the only difference in the end) couch basking in mild mutual admiration (hopefully, can be one-sided quick), physical connection (ditto), acceptance, and possibility. Sound familiar? Of course it does, a harp I play too much...cue Unicorn.

 Execution time? Soon? Some (not all) actions lead straight to the exploded lab ref'd above ("won't know till you try it" you say?...childish thinking like before you knew the stove was hot, go ahead...), and have a fallout path a mile wide that stretches to the horizon. Some actions seem very compassionate and giving, but end up in the same wounded place for at least two (maybe 3 or 4 of 5) of the principals in every scenario. There are choices that focus solely on sacrifice, lowest common denominator stuff that ends up with everyone capped on true (big distinction here, not talking about the fleeting non-contributory no-consequences out-from-under-my-responsibilities relief feeling...am talking proactive, not compensatory) happiness...fear of that is what brought you here; no-go. This could go on for a while...suffice to say that due diligence has been done and several dozen possibilities with hundreds of variations have been scrutinized and anecdotal corollaries researched...the body of knowledge is probably enough to move to new execution and grows daily.

Old business, done, I'm tired of it too. ;-) On to the little things...

 

I'm looking at my professional situation and giving it some serious thought. I've mentioned before that I had a pretty good gig...still do. I have become a little disaffected though, and sent some lines out into the marketpond to see if anyone likes me. Didn't even get seated to watch the little bob before it went under; joke on me...I knew change was on me but I didn't know it was that close. So dilemmas ensue, known and secure vs. new w/risk, solid pay vs. x2 wage earning...shit, s'what I get. No real losing position, confident that I can throw the trick and stick the landing, but I've gotten complacent and have been so busy on other things that I haven't focused on my drive. Tomorrow (a face-to-face) will probably be a significant gate, we'll see.

Fall and guns, like rotel and velveeta, for me they just go together. Shot rounds through a big part of the arsenal yesterday (blessed with location for indiscriminate gun slinging). A new 9mm all German and authoritative, long guns sighted on the bench (big bang, little bullets, scope distance) even shotgunned a tree stump into little trunkettes for a while; 5 quick ones pumped into a wooden torso, pretty sure I put him down for good. Can still shoot and like doing it; best effort was with a little wheel-gun that my grandfather (master gunsmith among other things, mostly bad) tooled into the sweetest shooting pistol I've ever held; shiny short barrel and hitting center mass chest-sized metal targets at 50 yards. Since I'm not that good, must be the iron. If you don't like the references to imagined human begging-for-booya...well, I don't like to kill animals less I need to eat 'em. Tactical defense against the two-legs though, the right tool for the job unless you are in close and it's murder-in-the-dark.

 

Animals. My big-watchful-defensive Sara-dog died a short time ago, that's three pets in less than 2 years (co-termed expiration dates, sucks), only one left. My feelings there don't work in prose, sentimental repetition about something that meant a lot to me feels like disservice. She was an elegant animal in her way, so a death-poem seems apropos (you have been warned). Consequence? New puppy soon for the tot, a poodle most likely, miniature, and from a reputable breeder. The house has played host to many an  animal of questionable parentage, been lucky so far, but want some predictable qualities now.

Other activities...several, including writing and trip-taking. Another time though, got leaves in the pool that need rescuing.