Rust Never Sleeps, And Feels Anxious All The Time, Wants To Upgrade, But Needs More Memory

 

Rust Never Sleeps, Feels Anxious All The Time,  Wants To Upgrade, But Needs More Memory.  

Time is the great leveller.  We waste so much of it as  we age. I am at the age where time wasted vastly outweighs time remaining. 

Then one day, while I was still consumed with the anxiety of the living, I no longer wanted an end to it all; I feel the thirst of the parched, I crave to savour the restless ennui, to parse my remaining words, to subdivide my landlocked limitations, selling off parcels of strained wisdom, while considering strained prunes, and straining to hear full sentences. 

We have a shelf life that is unknown to us at the time of assembly.  While Life is finite, it can expand as far as the mind will allow. However, in the end…well, there is an end. 

There is always an ending.  I have had many beginnings, many restarts, many do overs, but now I feel I am on the verge of getting on. Not getting it on, simply just getting on.  My wife and I have spent 42 years in each other’s company.  We still enjoy waking up to one another. She is my best friend. In some ways our communication has never been better, that is if I hear what she is saying.  

She has always said I have selective hearing, which is the nice way of saying I wasn’t listening.  Lost in my own thoughts, concentrating on what is the best way to put my foot in my mouth, I have always been in my own world.  Many times growing up I was accused of looking right through people, staring intently but on what? 

I see my daughter lost in the familial gaze, and remember my mother twice removed from the moment, Earth to Mom, Earth to Dennis, Earth to Daughter…. Receiving transmissions from God knows where or what.  But now, I really am trying to listen.  I am trying hard to hear and more importantly to comprehend the meaning of what it is that is being said.  

My hearing is both directionally and frequency challenged.  In a room of many voices, I hear no one. If your head is looking down or away, I might not hear all of what you are saying. If your voice is of a certain mid-range frequency, sorry, I hear very little.  

My mind just shuts down as I try to follow multiple conversation threads, and no matter how hard I try, all the threads unravel, and I am left at a loss, and with the loss. Perhaps this is the meaning of hearing loss. This is what is hard about hearing, or not hearing. 

Many years ago, I had a friend who I thought did not like me. I found out she was too vain at that time to wear her glasses in public, so she actually couldn’t even see me. And here I was thinking she just disliked me.  I was invisible to her because I was barely visible.  

There are probably many folks who think I feel I am superior or above them, or why else would I not answer?  I am not above being a snob, but in lots of cases, I am not responding because I am not hearing you, 

Much of what we do is habitual, reflex action, like Pavlov’s dog licking it’s own who-ha. Just now, I was thirsty and reached for the vase with the flower in it. 

 Because it was on the right side, and I am right handed.  The glass, which was actually empty, was on my left. In my thirst, reflex took over, and my right hand reached for the vase. 

Thankfully I am not so far down that rabbit hole that I drank the old flower water, along with the flower.  

But my reflex was to go in that direction.  

Playlist: 

Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered  Anita O’Day https://youtu.be/yiW0ANvFpKA

Leaving  Chet Baker  https://youtu.be/DKVWp_Ekl44

Bewildered  James Brown  https://youtu.be/ekq7qCImdWY