You Can’t Handle The Naked Truth

The hardest part of watching a man be decapitated isn’t watching the blade saw back and forth or the gurgling noise coming from his throat.

It is the memories of horror that stay with you long afterwards.

That is the gift and the curse of having the kind of imagination that never quits and the need to know what happens next.

It is part of why some song lyrics pinball back and forth in my head.

Because they paint enough of a picture for me to see the outline of a story and I always fill in the blanks.

I might not share them with anyone else, but I always see and hear it inside my head.


What Lies Beneath The Surface

I am flipping around Amazon music looking for albums I don’t own but have access to because I am a Prime member but I keep playing stuff I already own.


Because I get distracted by God Only Knows by the Beach Boys and Summertime by Billy Holiday.

Somewhere in the midst of trying to share a few thoughts about how I am always looking beneath the surface and chasing after information music sends me searching for something else.

Not because I am unfocused but because I have a tremendous capacity for storing trivia and miscellaneous data that I think might be useful one day.

And because Fleetwood Mac’s Albatross sends me to Paul Simon’s Late In The Evening and I am reminded of several different stories.

Stories about moments where a teacher said the next person to speak is going to get the kind of punishment they’ll remember forever.

Well, I spoke and I don’t really remember the punishment. Too bad I can’t go back in time and tell them it didn’t work.

But it also reminds me of how I went through a period of time where I was terrified to walk downstairs to my bedroom because I felt like something was waiting for me in the dark.

A thousand years later I can tell you the impact of that time reaches today because it is part of why I am sometimes so intent on pushing beyond the curtain.

Too much anticipation grinds upon me, so I figure it is better to pull the curtain back and determine whether the wizard is just a man or magical beast.


You Can’t Handle The Naked Truth

The funny thing about all this is there is a situation I am dealing with now that is making me crazy because I am nervous about what the real truth is.

It has been around for the better part of a year now and it has commanded a significant part of my attention.

Hell, there have been moments where I chose not to go to sleep for a while because I knew it would show up in my dreams and the great brain doesn’t always let me save the day.

Nope, sometimes I am the guy who gets it done and sometimes I am the guy who can’t figure out how to defuse the bomb or cut the rope before the train comes.

But I always come back to that place where I have to know the full story and find a way to confront the situation.

Can’t figure it out, fix it or get beyond without knowing more details and I just don’t quite have the sort of grip on it that I want.

I am fairly certain that is part of why my hair doesn’t want to live with me anymore.

Yet I am also confident that I am closer than ever to getting some answers, not that it matters because some situations are outside of our control.

Sometimes the best you can do is offer your support and hold out a hand and hope it is taken.

I have done the best I can with that. Painted giant green arrows pointing towards the exit and even included some colorful signs.

Had multiple discussions about how many limitations exist because of the boxes we draw around ourselves, but none of it has worked.

Doesn’t mean they can’t or won’t either, but it doesn’t change that for now they are failed ventures.

Mush Doggy

I figure if I am going to be given the gift of restless energy I ought to try and get some benefit out of it.

Some of that comes from walking and lifting weights while other bits come from looking into what it would take to get a concealed weapon permit.

And let’s not forget the joy of becoming a master dog sled racer so I could enter and win the Iditarod.

That probably would come after the Ironman, but I haven’t decided yet.

Hell, I have even played around with law school because the world needs a good lawyer to match up against the hacks.

Seriously, some of you are just…bad.

And with that I’ll leave you with the words of my dead friend Ralph and the promise to keep chasing after the naked truth.

Emerson solitude
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