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I haven’t been here for a while. In fact, the last time I was here they asked me to leave because I asked a customer sitting next door to me if they had seen the film “Super-Size Me”. “We’ll have none of that here,” the Manager exclaimed. I was shocked and then asked myself this question, “why do I always let my big mouth get me into trouble?, why can’t I just be quiet, enjoy the day and this wonderful book in front of me?” Good questions huh? The Manager proceeded to tell me, in no un-certain terms, that if I did not leave immediately —  I was making the other customers extremely un-comfortable — she would call the police. Needless to say, I got the message. Nothing subliminal about that.

Well, that was then and now is now. It’s a year and a season later and many Managers have passed through here since then and, I am a wiser person. I no longer talk to anyone: I write about them. Of course I do not use their real names, in fact, I do not know their real names and don’t care to know. The older I get, the quieter I get, the quieter I get, the older I get. Yes, we need to communicate, at least, they say we need to. “They”, “hmm,” who knows who “they” are anymore; but it is common knowledge that a “they” do exist and that “they” say and advise those sorts of things. They also say that is is very O.K. to hang out and especially, eat at McDonald’s. I believe that what “they” say is true so, I hang out here in the winter months when my work is slow, watch others who hang out here, and always keep my eyes open for “they” who just may be on the premises.

Old men, kids, Dad’s with their — custody on the weekend — sons and daughters in tow while their x’s lay around the house with their lovers, and/or new spouses. Yes, we believe in monogamy with all our Ronald McDonald hearts: serial monogamy. None of those strange relationships for us; we couldn’t keep up with it anyway: one at a time for us, that’s enough; for a while. Who would not always want, and strive to be the favorite, wife or husband. Boy, what a mess that would make in amerika. The murder rate would sky-rocket. So, none of that “funny” stuff here. Please, one at a time.

Young flesh, old flesh. Old men in hats rarely seen these days except in old B&W photos on Family Restaurant walls. Got the flaps for the ears, up today, down tomorrow. Young girls with tattoos and cheap Chinese jewelry, torn shirts, skirts and jeans. Tear it where the tattoos are so we can see what brave young children you are. Thirty below zero but I can see the Tattoo. “Oh, they must see my Tattoo,” says the sixteen year old girl to her friend. “What good is it if they can’t see it?” she adds as her friend looks around embarrassed hoping “they” are not present watching and listening. Ronald’s ghost swirls in and out of this and every McDonald’s on the planet listening and watching as his empire grows ever larger; tattoos, torn shirts, immigrant help, cholesterol, cardiac arrest, obesity, and the happiest of meals.

Two old buddies are sitting in the booth next to mine. The one readies his oxygen canister on the two-wheeler for the trip home. It’s 11:00 a.m.. His friend says, “Yeah, I haven’t got nothing to do anymore (exact wording), it gets worse as I get older.” His friend, wrapped in tubes, eyes bulging, says, “Do you believe it Jack, my boy says I go to bed too early? I mean, what does the kid want me to do, watch the boob tube like he does every fu**ing waking minute of his life? It’s all crap.” The oxygen man rolls to the door while Jack keeps on talking, his words trailing into whimpers while  his friend, no longer able to hear him, rolls his two-wheeler out the door. Jack then reaches down and retrieves his walker, makes a few adjustments and rises slowly from the booth. He says to the Oriental woman who had been cleaning the restrooms, “all done back there?” She nods in the affirmative and moves out of his way in the isle to let him pass.

Soon after Jack heads to the restroom a middle-aged couple comes in the back door. With them is a youngish attractive woman probably in her early twenties. The women sit down right across from me and the man heads to the counter to get their drinks. Soda for the women and coffee for the man. He returns and begins to chat with the younger woman. The older woman, apparently his wife is quiet through-out their conversation which focuses on some sort of law enforcement. The man talks as though he is addressing a crowd so the conversation is by no means a private one. The young woman and the man begin to tell each other about their athletic exploits, marathons, rock climbing and cycling while the other woman remains exquisitely quiet. I pick up my book “The Sorrows of Young Werther” and read a few more of his diary entries. He is as boring as the man and girl across the aisle. After an apple pie I decide to take a break outside and have a smoke.

It’s very windy today, the power is out at my apartment which is how I ended up here this morning. The flags in front of the building are horizontal and ragged, especially the Colorado State Flag. It’s hard to light  up so I climb into the car and sit with my coffee. There are masses of dark clouds rapidly moving across a bright blue sky, it’s chilly, then warm, chilly again. The drive through at this Mac is a two-laner, always packed out. Cadillacs, old Japanese cars and trucks, four-wheelers. Young girls, old girls, fat girls , thin girls, all in for the “fix”. Soda, soda, soda! I finish my cigarette (my fix) and head back in for a re-fill and another short shift of reading, writing, and another apple pie.

A group of Saturday worshippers arrives through the back entry. Two very skinny guys in very cheap suits and three fat girls with long curly hair, tons of make-up and cheap jewelry. Probably Jehovah’s Witnesses I think. Can’t be Seventh Day Adventists because most of them are healthy vegetarians who have enough money for better clothes. Hey, I don’t have expensive clothes either but I don’t pretend to and dress up like a circus act. It’s nothing personal, I mean, come on, lets be real, we are adults aren’t we? You can get some pretty nice duds at Goodwill. I know, I have some. So, they all crowd around a table and consume about twenty pounds of bovine flesh; more than I eat in a week or more, sucking fingers, blowing noses, dropping enough French Fries on the floor to feed ten of the Big Black Crows flying around outside the door for a few days. I guess they are fattening themselves up for some kind of strange sacrifice, burn the fat, let the sweet smoke rise to the pig god or something. Maybe make a few candles for the Oinker Altar. Boy, am I being ugly today. Hey, I’ll get over it.

I’m going to head home and see if the power is back on yet. There are sirens all over town, the wind is still cranking and I’m tired of people, once more, for the day.

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I took one of my regular walks this morning around the lake. As I was nearing the end a man on a bicycle rode by heading in the opposite direction, the direction from which I had come. I heard a muffled sound as he passed by was too enthralled with the Faure playing on my shuffle to turn and investigate the sound. I continued to my old Chevy parked at the end of my route, got in and started it up, buckled up, lit a smoke, and pulled out of the parking place and headed for my next scheduled destination. I drove toward the mountains heading west on the busiest boulevard in town for about a mile and a half and pulled into the MacDonald’s. I had my journal in my bag along with the current books I was reading and was ready for a fresh cup of that wonderful coffee and a couple of those magnificently delicious apple pies. I parked and put the cigarette out, grabbed the bag and went inside. There were a million kids in there celebrating someone’s birthday. It was perfect MacDonald’s day; kids screaming, mom’s talking on their cell phones, old men talking about the perfection of their lawns last summer, a very omni-racial staff behind the counter, and… my friend Bill whom I had not seen for months.

I was ordering– or trying to order– when Bill walked up behind me, placed his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Hey, I just passed you on my bike, I yelled like all hell breaking loose but you ignored me.’ ‘Hi Bill’, I said, ‘so that was you, I didn’t know that you rode a bike, I always look for your car. I was pre-occupied anyway and there was a piano sonata blasting into my ears.’ ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘this must have been our day to meet.’ ‘Yeah, it must be our day cause I thought you were in Denver. Do you still have a place up here?’ ‘I’ve got the office downtown, I come up here for the week-ends. It’s above the Cove downtown.’ ‘I know where that is, down by Dave’s Barber Shop, no, no, now I remember it’s over across from the old Lincoln Hotel.’ ‘Yeah, that’s it,’ Bill said. I continued, ‘that’s why I see you there sometimes in that Mini City Park there at the corner of 4th and 287 huh?’ ‘Yeah, my office is 2 doors down.’ ‘So, where are you sitting Bill, I’ll be over when I get my stuff.’ He pointed to a table right in the middle of the birthday party and I thought, well, he’s been here for a while, he definitely would not have sat there if the party had been going on when he got here.

I finally got my coffee and apple pies. A pretty little Black girl named Falon finally got around to me. I had only started seeing her here a few weeks ago. Hell, twenty years ago there were only 2 or 3 Black people in this county, now I’ve seen more of them here since the depression started a couple of years ago than I saw the previous 20 years. I think they’re all moving out of Chicago, Detroit, Dayton, and probably even Pittsburgh looking for some peace and quiet. Some of them, I’m sure, probably had good paying jobs in the auto industry before shit hit the fan, now, they’re like many of us, taking whatever they can get just to pay the rent and believe me, the rent is a lot more here than back east. Anyway, just like the Mexicans; it’s the smart and desperate that are moving here. I respect that. She is a little cutesy, needs to work on them buns a little bit.

So I work my way over to Bill’s table through the gauntlet of kids, sweet-smelling moms, trash all over the floor, and old people trying to escape, and then sit down facing him. ‘Damn, you look really good Bill, what’s up?, I’ve never seen you look so good!’ ‘It’s the dialysis three times a week Charlie, it just makes me look better not necessarily be better, and I’m just beginning. They don’t even have all of my hardware installed yet. I still am going to have to wait another month for them to get this part connected.’ He lifts his jacket and shirt and shows me the work they’ve done on him. I’ve seen it before in another friend, a man that is no longer here. That friend ended up dying after a few years of problems, one new kidney, multiple infections, heart failures, you name it, he was only 41 years old. I didn’t say this to Bill of course. Bill suffered from a genetic kidney disease called PKD, and still does, but now it’s gotten so bad that he has to have his blood cleaned 3 times a week. Like my other friend Don he just keeps on going somehow. These people like Don and Bill just break my heart because it is nothing that they have done or not done to themselves. Then, guys like me that have constantly abused their bodies all their lives are walking around healthy as baby pigs. Of course I’ve stopped many of the old habits but not necessarily because I chose to but more because I was fearful of the consequences. So not for courageous or worthy reasons like my friends Bill and Don have I ever done anything. Sad.

Bill was telling me, ‘the VA has given me the run-around because of the Medical Marijuana issue. They refuse to pay for many of the things I need right now so I’ve had to spend a lot of time with the Feds trying to get all the Medicare crap in order.’  ’Well’, I said, ‘I sure don’t see why they’re giving you a hard time about the pot, I mean come on, look at you and your history. So, the bills are getting paid right?’ I asked.  ’Absolutely not,’ Bill answered, ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen. The search for a kidney is getting no where. I’ve had to go to all the food banks around here and down in Denver just to eat and the banks are really hurting. I got caught driving from a food bank 2 weeks ago with expired tags and expired Driver’s License and now I have to go to court next week. They scheduled me into court at a time when I will be on the machine so I took a note from my Doctor to the court and they acted like, well?, you just better be here, we can’t re-schedule. Then the woman had second thoughts after probably looking at me a little closer. She told me to wait there for a few minutes as she ducked into a room behind her office. After about 30 minutes she came back and told me not to worry and handed me a revised schedule. It’s been crazy Charlie.’

So we sat there and gabbed for at least a couple of hours while some greasy little boy crawled around behind Bill doing every thing he could to get our attention. Poor kid; I call it ‘Male Deficit Disorder’. The little boys are sad to me because it seems they just yearn to be around men. Most of the time anymore in our culture there are no constant men. Well, maybe constant men but always different ones. His mom wasn’t paying any attention to him so Bill and I talked to him a little bit, just enough to bore the little fella. Bill is a very intelligent man and, like Don, knows all the terminology associated with his disease and now, all the same associated with kidney failure and dialysis. I sit and listen as I did with Don. ‘So have you been eating and sleeping well Bill,’ I asked. ‘Yes, very well,’ he said. ‘There was a period about 2 months ago that I had a problem eating, or, I should say, getting enough to eat. I lost 10 lbs. between dialysis appointments and they were concerned about the dynamic weigh loss. The guy beside me always brings his dinner in from Subway and eats while he’s on the machine, well anyway, he said to me, ‘damn Bill, if I would have known you’ve had problems getting food I would have helped. The man then recommended a local food program that delivers meals everyday to the disabled and they began to bring me prepared frozen meals everyday. In fact, when I get home tomorrow there will be 2 meals waiting there for me.’

We decided that we had worn out our welcome and prepared to leave. He was riding his bike of course having hid his car somewhere downtown when he drove up from Denver. He thinks they’re watching him. They probably are, he’s kind of radical and knows that he doesn’t have any thing to lose by always telling the truth. So he puts his hat and gloves on and unlocks his bike and reminds me that my phone number is no longer working. We exchange numbers and say goodbye. I drove to the grocery to get a few things because there is another storm coming in tonight. It could snow for a few days and I don’t want to run out of water, eggs, and coffee. I called him around 9:00 p.m. this evening to see how he was doing and to ask him out to breakfast in the morning. He said he would enjoy that and so, I have a date with a friend in the morning. What a guy. I only wish when I’m around Bill for a few hours that I had taken the time to be around my friend Don just a bit more. I miss him….mz

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Woke up this morning by a southbound freight train, unusual that it would wake me. I generally sleep right through the power and noise moving by only a hundred yards from my east windows. So I was up before sunrise again, wandering around the apartment drinking coffee and smoking. It’s too cold to smoke on the patio so I compromise, a little in, a little out. It’s been a long winter. As always I listen to a few radio programs before I leave the warmth in the morning. One program is ‘Thru the Bible’ with teacher J. Vernon McGee, the other is Ravi Zakarias and his ‘Let My People Think’. That’s bold huh?, I mean, people?, think?, mmm!… I’ve listened to these programs for several years, in fact, it is my second full trip on the bible bus with J. Vernon. It takes my edge off just listening to these guys reminding me that I am supposed to be a christian person and often– it would be proper– to even act like one. It’s like, if the authorities were now going about arresting christians would they have enough evidence to arrest me. Sometimes, sadly, I think not.

Headed south the freighters are hauling oil from the Athabasca tar pits in eastern Alberta and western Saskatchewan along with thousands of empty containers from China. The U.S. gets about a million barrels a day from Canada buying all they can that the Chinese haven’t already contracted for; it’s a ‘global’ operation with the largest oil companies in the world clawing always for more. Going north it’s always refined fuels and loaded Chinese containers. Sometimes you’ll still see lumber coming down but not anything like it was only five years ago in the building boom. I like the trains; the big motors rumble, you can feel the weight of their movement and always know if they are loaded or otherwise. Seems to me they have all but given up on the graffiti which is O.K. with me. I like the graffiti too. Often, in mid-autumn and early summer you’ll see the grain cars maxed out heading south bound for Mexico to the new shipping ports there avoiding the ports on the west coast of the U.S. and Canada. Nothing going to the coasts from here anymore, just north and south, like the jobs.

So now I’m here at the mac for coffee and the proverbial ‘apple pies’. I saw a cute bumper sticker coming over here on the back of a relatively new Saturn. It said, ‘zero to sixty in three days.’ I thought as I laughed out loud that I wish I had thought of that first. The people in the car next to me were probably ready to call the cops about that crazy guy laughing next door; you know, he’s got to be doing drugs or something illegal to be laughing that way. They are under-staffed here, why not?, they know we don’t have any other place to go to get coffee this cheap. We’ll clean our own tables, ignore the disgusting restrooms and the sloppy employees that don’t speak a word of English. Oh, I’m being to harsh. They do speak a word or two and always in the same tone of voice. Yes, they say, “good morning, how are you?” That’s it, and most of them have lived here for eight or ten years. Amazing huh? Although it’s filthy this store is still better than the one down on Eisenhower. Supposedly they are not concerned at this store because it will be torn down next year, shave off the lot and build a new one. The ceilings are falling in from leaks in the roof, the parking lot and sidewalks are crumbling, curbs almost non-existent. Hey, where’s the money going, certainly not to the employees or the facility. Nonetheless, I know, nobody made me come in here and the next cheapest coffee in this town is a buck forty and then you got to tip the waitress. So it goes.

This mac is in a business district on the north side of town, it’s busy. This is a ‘two-line’ drive thru store so the cars and trucks parade through in solid lines circling the entire building, so, we get em’ coming and going. . Moms and kids, Ranchers, oil people, rich land brokers, fat bankers, teachers and professors at CSU and other schools, you name it, they are fighting their way around the building. So I sit here listening to the old retired folks telling their tales, eating the fat, laughing and seriously growing older with every whiff of Carbon Dioxide, Carbon Monoxide, Sulfur Dioxide, all the wonderfully healthy and mysterious Particulates; the Benzene, Formaldehyde, Hydrocarbons, you name it; it’s on the menu too. I sit, listen, take notes, complain to myself and schedule the rest of another boring winter day.

Yes me, the perpetual complainer. I’ve got my complaining material ready for the day. Today it’s Yemen. What in the holy hell are we trying to do over there now? Wasn’t Iraq enough? Isn’t Afghanistan enough? How about Pakistan, isn’t it enough? When will there be enough? When we run out of money? Well, most of us working stiffs are almost out of money. Don’t they have anything else to do? I don’t mind paying taxes but I certainly wish I could choose where some of the money goes. I like Policemen, Firemen, Highways, Electric Lights on the streets at night. I like Roads that are smooth and glowing at night with those shiny reflectors. I like to be able to help other Americans with Food and Medical Care, Retirement. How about a library, think of that? Last I heard the Library in John Steinbeck‘s hometown closed for lack of funding; you believe that?, I still don’t. Sad! I like these things but, no, now we are going into another Muslim country. Mmm, always Muslims. I think maybe Muslims believe that we Americans don’t like them. What do you think. I pass.

Hey, we got a new terrorist plot in Detroit, yep, you guessed it, a Yemeni, what a coincidence. There is a large Yemeni population there. I guess they don’t mind being around Blacks huh?, so, leave em’ alone. I mean, none of us want to be around Blacks, at least not the way they treat us Whites now. When I was a kid it was O.K.. Now, the young Blacks in my own home town look at me like I’m an enemy. I don’t want what they want, don’t want their money, cars, or women, so, why do they look at me with disgust and hatred? I don’t know, getting tough out there. Yep, America keeps on blaming and bombing. I really believe it must be just a ‘hobby’, what do you think? Yemen has no more oil, no Al Qaeda, no world-class universities, no natural resources that we want unless, of course, camels become popular here. So it goes, hang on to your money and your young sons and daughters or else they’ll sacrifice them on the fire.

Well, anyway, I think it will be a nice day here in the ‘middle of America’. I’ll drink this coffee up, eat this last pie and go home, read, nap, and try to understand the problems of the planet….

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Nice day, warming up a bit, my gosh, it may get into the high twenties today. Funny…after some time in this cold, white,  and icy season I can stand outside my apartment on the balcony and smoke with not even a jacket on; house-slippers are enough to warm my feet and a knit cap keeps my heat from escaping up-wards. It is beautiful, bright and blazing white, so much so that I need to wear the sun protector covers on my glasses. When I go inside a building it takes more than a few minutes for my pupils to widen a bit, it’s almost like they are rebelling and just don’t want to open, afraid that I’m just kidding about staying inside…they (my pupils) are exhausted from this winter already because of all the ice and snow; and we have yet maybe 2 more months of this, maybe more. Hey, grin and bear it or move huh?

I was out of bed by sunrise, of course this time of year that ain’t saying much about ‘early to rise’. I get bored, got to get out regardless of the ice and snow so, I come here and watch and listen to the other people who come here to watch and listen to the other people… Here ATTHEMAC, America‘s favorite place. I remember the first ‘Golden Arches’ in the Dayton, Ohio area. In fact, they were in Dayton. You could see them from the highway there as you entered or excited that dirty industrial city, highway #35 it was, and still is. Of course all productive roads there now lead in and out of one of the most important military/industrial complexes on the planet–good old Wright Patterson AFB. It is now a broken dirty industrial city, no curbs, no streetlights, no hope since the gas guzzlers have become obsolete. Good riddance! Of course some people I know still believe the eastern rust-belt cities are worth saving, that’s O.K., dream on, it’s over folks…yes, dream on.

So, them Arches, yes, gold paint. Gold for what’s his face, Ray Full-Of-Croc. Great entrepreneur, became a Florida guy, we won’t go there, O.K.?, unless of course you are either a Southern Baptist, Drug Addict, or Drunk. Actually I know some who are all the above and are quite certain that the Man-From-Above shines His Blessed Light down on them everyday. Go figure. So, the Arches. Yes, it was like they built the Arches first and then–everything else just, very naturally–fell into place. Actually, they (who?), could, after a few more wonderful years of technical and social engineering just drop the middle structure in between the Arches with one of Ben Bernanke‘s famous Helicopters, I mean, they had much in common–billions of burgers, billions of dollars to the people who own the places tucked in between those billions of Golden Arches. So, I digress…

They’ve been cutting the hours here atthemac. The staff can be over-heard complaining while they do less and less all the time. I often have to clean a table myself and dare not touch or get near any surfaces I don’t have to in the rest-rooms. Oh, the rest-rooms; another time O.K.? This used to be the cleanest store in town: there are 3 Macs here in this town; 1 east, 1 west, and 1 right in the middle. They wanted to put 1 downtown but the City Planners objected; of course the City planners own the crummy Mom & Pop pig-sties down there amidst all the junk stores, tattoo parlors, payday loan places, tuxedo rental places, and, of course, the churches. . Great scene huh? America–oops: America The Beautiful, excuse me! There you have it. It gets dirtier by the day. The trash around my table would probably be of some value to a Sri Lankin but I don’t think there are many of those here; the only ones I know of– but everybody thinks they are from India– those Sri Lankins (the ones I know of) own the Gas Station downtown that sells cigarettes, beer, and Lottery Tickets along with a bit of gas. They always try to give me a beat-up pack of wins-tons.  That pack of wins-tons has been in that store for 3 months, same old story–they do it every time. I guess they (Sri Lankins) think we all look the same.

O.K., so, you know me by now…the proverbial, perpetual complainer. Yes, that’s completely O.K. with me. I refuse to live a life of quiet desperation, I prefer to live a life of high volume desperation and, I know now that it gets worse with age. No wonder people anesthetize themselves here with Broncos and Budweiser. So, just blabbing here atthemac. A man is talking about Yemen at the next table. He wants to go in there and get em’. Yep, get em, whoever is left that is–they have no water or oil, big do-do. But, hey, they got them terrorists and that, in itself, is a big money-maker. So, I agree, go get em, creates better paying jobs especially in Dayton at WPAFB. Maybe get them lights back on and get my son a job. There is a large Yemeni population in Detroit, that will show them huh? Look what happens when a bunch of Yemenis move into Detroit. They are tearing down the old assembly lines and putting in vegetable gardens. Hey, maybe we can get some of those Yemenis to move to Denver, we need more vegetable gardens.

So, I’m almost done with another book. I try to read one worth-while classic a month along with all the other junk I read mainly on the internet. This one is ‘Albert Camus and the Minister’; kind of interesting but not much. Of course Camus is interesting but the minister is not. He is a cry baby regretfully moaning about not being able to save Camus from himself and a sure ticket to everlasting fire before he crashed his car into a tree, a tree?, yes, I think so, into a tree. The minister is now, at this late date, probably meeting with Camus again drinking expensive French wine, playing with the little French girls and talking about old times in Paris, neither concerned about the fires raging around them…there is nothing left to burn; the worms have had their way. Adieu….mz

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As you can see, I am way behind on these posts but, I must get them written down. It is late summer now 2010 so, soon I’ll be sitting atthemac again for hours at a time watching the winter pass. I don’t have time to go to my favorite place in the spring, summer, fall…How I dearly miss it–the smell, the mess, the old men and women, the high school kids with their feet up on the chairs, the fat people behind the counter, the fat people everywhere. I think the mac and the AMA and Big Pharma walk gayly hand in hand to the bank everyday. HEY, “YOU FEED EM’, WE’LL FIX EM’” There is a cashier at Safeway that always says to me when she hands me my change, “here, enough for McDonald’s.” I always glare at her–that’s probably why she says it–and say…”I DON’T EAT ATTHEMAC AND HAVEN’T FOR YEARS, THAT’S ONE OF THE REASONS I’M STILL HERE TO TELL YOU THIS.” She always just looks stupid and says, “oh I know you, I’m just kidding, just kidding.” Of course I don’t tell her about the Apple Pies…shhhh! God have mercy on us…McDonald’s, Microsoft, Chevrolet, Monsanto, Google, Wall Street, Social Security, Taliban, Homeland Security, pay check to pay check….cut me some fucking slack. Let me outta here!!!

So anyway…all seriousness aside let’s go back….

Another formidable storm is on its way through here. Here?, Where?. The High Plains, Colorado–the high desert, the only moisture we can ever count on are these miserable snowstorms that leave me un-employed and sitting in this miserable McDonald’s sipping on the only coffee I can afford after 2 months of snow, ice, more snow, more ice, more creepy, cheap coffee.  The snowplows have been out all night; it’s a wet snow, heavy but, wet snows dis-appear faster than dry snows…My paper coffee cup is always “half-full”. I know you can tell Dear Reader that I am by nature a very positive kinda guy. I digress….

A neighbor named Gene and I cleaned all the snow from the steps and side-walks this morning. The manager won’t do it so, we do. Gene is un-employed also. He spends all of his un-employment on Old Milwaukee. I used to do that–I’m an old 12 stepper. Anyway, what a great guy he is smell and all–hope he makes it to 40, maybe then he’ll join me atthemac. So far, and I’ve asked him countless times, he won’t go with me for coffee. I even offered to buy his coffee and even get him a couple of those famous Apple Pies. Apple Pies, yeah, right. They aren’t Apple Pies and everyone knows that except Ronald–they are Apple Tarts.

So, here I am atthemac with my coffee and 2 pies for a buck. We clean our own tables here. That way we get them exactly the way we want them. Just ask for a rag to wipe a table and they’ll give you one. Hints don’t work atthemac. People are sneezing and coughing today more than normal. It’s like running a gauntlet, avoiding the germs…they are out there and will slap, lick, and bite you if you don’t run well. If you are fortunate and actually avoid the little critters in the air all around you will be free. Free of the flu of course. People here today are so willing to share. So, the manager will not clean the snow, and, the team member atthemac will not clean the table–what a wonderful world.

So, I’m suffering from a major dis-connect. I live in a world where my standards are not the prevailing ones. Have I set a bad example? Has my cohort failed to teach reasonable standards that we almost all took for granted 35 to 40 years ago? Is it the “new standard” to clean your own table atthemac; to leave the 12″ of snow on the stairs, walk-ways, and drive. Is it the “new standard” to wait for someone else to perform needed tasks? Am I the only person on the planet that is concerned about this mess we are in? And often I hear, “well, you are the only person that ever complains.”, or, “Why does this bother you so much, mind your own business, nobody else complains so ‘deal with it.’” So, I do. I try to keep quiet. I have a sign posted on my apartment door–on the inside–to remind me when I leave and move out into this miserable world we’ve all had our part in creating to “KEEP QUIET!”. Hey, it keeps me out of trouble but still causes me pain to not complain. If we don’t say anything about anything we begin to believe that all is well…it is not well. So, I’ll be quiet, keep still. I will remember the standards I was taught by the old guys and women and do my utmost to reflect them in the way I live what’s left of this life.

It’s a few days before Christmas. Everybody is broke. The stores are reporting dismal sales, the banks are no longer offering the neighbor’s dog a MasterCard and I am fine with that. I have no one to buy gifts for anyway. Nonetheless we are celebrating the birthday of a master. A master of giving. He gave his Mother kisses. He gave his Step-Father hugs. He gave his students wisdom. He gave a blind man sight. He gave hungry people food. He gave Lepers clean flesh. He gave cripples mobility. He gave the tax collectors coins from the mouth of a fish. He gave the Pharisees a rebuke. He gave the Jews a marvelous dilemma. He gave the Romans a spectacle never to be forgotten. He gave me hope. So, I hope that poor beggar in the corner over there gets a shower and a Big Mac.

So, enough complaining. It is a wonderful day here in the “middle of america” at 5000 feet above sea level. It’s cold, snowing, and will certainly be a white Christmas….mz

To Be Continued…

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Last Sunday I was on my way to a job and saw G. in the parking lot at King Soopers. I’d seen him there before but never this early in the morning. We met last year at the mac in the winter season. I hang out there– as you well know from earlier posts– in the winter when I’m not able to work because of the weather. Sadly, after sitting in a mac all winter, at different times of day, almost everyday of the week for a while, I came away in the Spring with only two acquaintances who I even care to speak to. G. is one of them.

G. is a little younger than I am but not by much. Apparently he lives in a small apartment by himself. He has never been married and from what I gather he does not date. G. has very long hair which he always ties into a pony tail; I’ve never seen him wear a hat even when it is very cold. Come to think of it, I have never seen him when it is very cold. He always appears in mid-afternoon on a sunny day. I recall this because we always chat for a while and go outside for a smoke-break. I don’t remember ever being uncomfortable when we do this and so it is reasonable to believe from my recollection–which is becoming more questionable as the years roll by– that it most likely was one of those Spring-like winter days here on the high plains in the “middle of amerika”, otherwise G. would probably be tucked warmly into his apartment watching the world go by.

G. was a good mood as usual. We talked for a while about things happening, or,  not happening our lives–relaxed, forgiving, and dis-arming conversation. No Macho, politics, or bullshit. I like this guy. I know his situation can’t be very comfortable. He has said that he was a carpenter but now, I know, he does temp work. Pretty common in the U.S. now and all over the planet for that matter, People are up-tight, nervous, losing their jobs, homes and ideas of what they considered normal only two years ago. Overall he seems un-affected by all of this as I am.

We relax and go over to the Starbuck’s there in the shopping center. We both got Grande Mochas and proceeded to spend another hour together. He told me about his Father who is so afraid of running out of money before he dies. I told him about my ex-Father-in-Law who suffers from the very same anomoly. It must be those WWII guys, something about those guys. Brokaw called them, “The Greatest Generation“, I beg to dis-agree. Who can say any generation is the “greatest”, Bullshit! Brokaw needs to retire. So, it was a pleasant morning. I was thankful that I could just stop everything and talk with this man, another who had somehow, blessedly, “fallen through the cracks”.

Yes, some good things are born of the mac, not many, but some. Funny, I saw G. two days later racing through a stop sign near my apartment. I beeped, he waved and smiled…

They are cutting the hours for the employees here @themac, some full-timers down to 21 hours a week. But the pundits insist that we are through the worst and indeed by giving away the baby with the bath-water we surely reined in the worst. Always, if we had not had done what we did…interesting, how would you know? I’ve heard someone say, someone much brighter and better with words than I that, “taking Bankruptcy out of capitalism is like taking hell out of Christianity.” So, a new term for our Lexicon this season, Moral Hazard, and, of course…too big to fail. I’ve heard that a person named God is too big to fail but…the times they are a-changing.

So, growth in the economy has been revised, again, down, revised down instead of what? UP!. Yes to 2.2 wonderful per cents. The Feds, our great leader economic warriors, revised twice from 3.8 to 2.8 to 2.2. Hey this is a battle against economic terrorism, we gotta find a way to lend them jokers more money so they’ll spend it. Somehow, whatever the cost…keep them spending even if we have to starve them to death doing it. It’s all a scam and anyone with an IQ over room temperature knows it. The joke is, indeed on us. Yep, the great “ownership society”. Hey, another one for the lexicon in the last decade huh?, or should I revise that, “the lost decade.”

They say the purchase of existing homes, not houses mind you, is up a miraculous 7.8 % but we all know who is buying them–the corporations and Fannie Mae is footing the bill. So, who is footing the bill?…us, the lender to the corporations is yes, us. Us on food stamps, us un-employed, us under-employed, us working for free because there is no where else to go, they call it “interning”, and, last but not least, us-homeless. The usa is great when it comes to volunteer work, they make it all sound so good like, hey, this could just very well count toward your entry fee into the Heavenly WASP City in the Sky just the same way that old american flag on your old rusty bumper used to count for something, at least a little bit of consideration, I mean it’s like them Catholics and their interesting methods to make your wonderful stay in hell a little bit more comfortable and definitely shorter. But, for the poor, the honest poor, if indeed there are any such left on the planet, its always the same. As that guy Jesus once said, “the poor will always be with you”, so go ahead, give the Catholics your money and pour the oil down my beard. Hey, Moody said, “once saved always saved.” So, one good deed, one short stint at interning for a large rich law firm and hey, buddy, you’re on your blessed way, praise the lord….

I’m tucking in here for another round of inclement weather, just being nice–crummy weather. There is another storm coming and they say, “it will be a doozy.” There goes all of my savings. I hope I can get some work done in early 2010, if not, I’m doomed. Please be near Lord now and forever. He does take care of his own and has proven this to me countless times. Often I play and joke but only to make a point. Forgive me Lord if I have offended Thee in any way. I wait, sit and think, consider the terror of the situation and am convinced that man is an abysmal failure and that there is no help for us until God intervenes and brings a halt to this circus dog and pony show. Remember, don’t interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake….NB

So, here I am, At The Mac. Cheap coffee, apple pie and it is already dark outside. Cold and dark at 6:00 p.m.. I just came from Wal-Mart: there wasn’t anyone there but me and the usual old and fat clerks. I was surprised, no one here either. Must be Hispanic night out–bring their kids to the Mac: livin the dream. Fat kids, of course most Americanos are fat and I suppose there is no reason in the world for the Mexican kids to be different–they’ll fit right in, low profile–just be cool, fat, and dumb like the rest of us. Sad. Pretty woman next door, seems sad–her and her Husband/boyfriend aren’t speaking–tension, tension everywhere. Sad, depressed appearance, of course I always challenge the guys that work with me to point out anyone we see through the day that is smiling, actually looking chipper, alive and going for the “gusto”. Yep, only the ones on drugs or drunk or maybe having sex as they cruise around town. The Mexican kid is smiling, yep, just five days until Christmas and Santa is on his way.

I’m trying to get through G. Shaw’s “Androcles and the Lion”, what a chore, what am I learning from this book: persistence–don’t quit until the work is finished. Some books and Authors are just work to me. I read them because I think I should, not for immediate pleasure but reserved for later pleasure when in a conversation with a stranger I can say, ever so smartly, “yeah, I read that, He is the guy huh.” Boy, will they be impressed with me huh? I wish I were a bit more impressed with myself. So Shaw has a pretty big issue with the Christians and especially with the man Jesus himself. I suppose Jesus may have a little bit of  a problem with Shaw but I’m sure he’ll get over it. Whether Shaw will get over it is that age old question re-visited once again–we’ll never get over it until it’s much too late to make a definite decision based on the limited information available to us. I don’t blame Shaw for this. Of course, as far as I can grasp the terror of the situation it seems increasingly to me that the world, as we know it, poses the proverbial, “If you’ll show me, I’ll believe it.” While it seems the Christian God posits, “If you’ll just believe, I’ll show you.” Tough row to hoe huh?; and–so much at stake. La-De-Da!…

I enjoy Shaw’s writing but I don’t always believe he has done all of his homework. He sneers at anything Jewish or Christian. At least in this book. He uses the stories to fortify his ideas while it is clear to anyone who has spent time in the Torah or Bible that he exercises a lamentable freedom in his interpretation of the material he feels fits his own ends. Hey, that’s O.K.. Just so we know. Of course Jesus the man (minus-divinity) would only have been a hustler, manipulator, liar, and at least paranoid schizophrenic–not a tasty morsel for the serious, starved spiritual aspirants from his time to the present. Hey, either he was god or he was a charlatan. The critiques he delivers seem to be ones that he could very well apply to himself and many of his contemporaries. Of course the Socialists of that period especially were vociferously ugly about any “organized religions.” To their loss I’m afraid. It would have been a very potent tool to use in their own political aspirations. Fools!…religion sincere or no is a mighty tool.   I’m going to have a smoke–you figure it out. Hey, make that a double….mz

I do not feel well today, physically I’m fine; it is a fore-boding feeling, kind of emotional, kind of psychological. I’ve been here before. I think in times like this the Holy Spirit is trying to let me know something. At least when I experience this type of feeling it is kind of like a warning to just keep an eye out, be careful, quiet and beware. I felt fine at home but as soon as I hit the door it overwhelmed me. Anymore that is not unusual, often I dread leaving the house. I have a note posted on the inside of my door that says, “keep quiet.” I’m safer if I don’t speak to anyone, especially a stranger. This is a tough one for me because I’m a natural extrovert. A lot of that comes from playing music and acting in plays when I was young. Actually I played music–in public–up until my mid-forties. I quit only because I was drinking too much and using cocaine. Finally I was able to stop those things after I became a Christian.

I was talking to one of my neighbors earlier this morning, his name is Steve. He appears to be in his mid-thirties or early forties. He tells me that he is a carpenter by trade but can’t find any work. He has only been in Colorado for a couple of years. Poor guy, he’s working at a fast-food restaurant part-time. I don’t know how he gets by, apparently he is somehow able to pay his rent. He asked me if I had any work for him. I told him that two other guys in the complex had already asked and that, if I could, I would help. My gosh, three grown men here, all in their thirties and forties with no work. Sad huh? This economy is getting worse regardless of what the spinmeisters are trying to lead us to believe.  Hey, why don’t they just tell us the truth? I know why, they think it’s all psychological and are doing their best just to keep us spending every last penny we have. They say that we Americans are saving more than we have in decades. We Americans know better, we aren’t spending because we have lost our jobs, many of us, our homes.

My clients seem to be well. I’ve noticed a drop in my holiday bonuses but, no one has called to cancel their service. An acquaintance of mine and I are doing proposals on large tree pruning on their properties for some extra work this winter. We are getting some of the work, what a blessing. It’s not a great big deal for me because I’m so frugal and usually save enough to get by 3 or 4 months without work. So far, so good. My friend sure does appreciate the work because he has a big family. I considered raising my fees this next season but have decided against that and will compensate by keeping a helper with me all the time. That way I make 5 or 10 extra dollars an hour and, of course, it is a lot easier on me physically.

Hey, there is hardly anyone in here today. Doesn’t seem to make much of a difference to the managers here though, the place is always pretty dirty. Standards everywhere have fallen catastrophically and people have adjusted down-ward. I heard that now the “Mac” sells more in Europe, China, and Malaysia than it does here. Hard to tell, everyone here is still fat. Now I suppose all the pictures I see of the Chinese will be different. Instead of hard-bodies, they’ll look just like us, fat and tired. Sad huh? Hooray for the “Golden Arches”, if we can’t over-come them economically we’ll ruin them with our food.

Please be near this day Father God, help me through this depression, let my barrel always provide meal and my cruse always have the oil that is necessary to get me to you. Let me not be rich as it may lead to pride or poor as it may lead me to steal. I love you Almighty One, please be near now and forever…

Here at the ‘mac’. I’ve already taken care of the battery issue in the car and finished the laundry. I spoke with one of my neighbors for a few minutes this morning, he’s an older guy (like me), seems like he’s always drugged out or suffering from a pretty bad hang-over. Now, understand me–I am sensitive to those symptoms only because I used to suffer from them myself, I ain’t no angel and apparently my neighbor isn’t either. I think his Mother rented his apartment here for him to keep him away from the house. He’s cool, I like him. He spent most of his adult life in Greenwich Village in New York City. He says he was involved in theater and bartending. I have no reason to doubt this whatsoever. I believe he is gay and may be suffering from aids. Nonetheless, he is an O.K. guy. He began attending classes at a local community college that is within walking distance of our apartments. He says that he would like to become a nurse. I hope if he does that I never run across him if I’m in the emergency room. Hey, like I said, nice guy but, you know.

I’m getting tired of these apple pies. As I’ve said before, they are not real apple pies, they are more like tarts, pop-tarts maybe, you know, those rectangular pastries that you can put in your Chinese toaster. Hey, these apple pies probably come from China also, the little green box, slippery, the opposite end automatically opens when you open the end you prefer, it ends up on the floor 3 of 10 times. Some of the ones I’ve opened look like they’ve been on the floor a few times. Most of them are exploded on one end and hard to get out of the box so you get all that sticky apple jelly all over your notebook. Great stuff, leave it to the ‘mac’ to teach us that we might as well lower our standards cause better times are coming.

I finished “Go Down Moses” yesterday. I felt that I should read it and did so, what a challenge. One or two of the stories were interesting but not enough to justify reading the book. Oh well, I can say now that I’ve read Faulkner huh? Maybe, just maybe, someone will think I’m a pretty smart guy to get through “Go Down Moses”. If anyone tells me that they read “Go Down Moses” I may believe otherwise about them but of course will never let them know why. So, I started “Androcles and the Lion” by you know who. Gosh, I’m reading some high-end stuff huh? So Shaw is strange, good writer but uninformed about his subject in this book. The man named Jesus anyway. Yes, I’m a Christian but only dis-agree with Shaw’s portrayal of Jesus because he cares not about context or history, especially Jewish history. He seems to know very little about the Jewish sacrificial system presented by the man Moses. Hey, whatever, Shaw’s dead and so is Moses. Soon we’ll join them. Born buried, so it goes.

Faulkner’s book though does inspire me to consider my heritage and the future of my family through my son and grandson, my brother and his sons. Of course the women we have chosen to bear our sons can’t be ignored, the inter-marriage, the mental illness, alcoholism, drug addiction, racism, and all the rest of the garbage destroying families these days. Everything changes, moves on regardless of how we think or feel about it. Life is hard but still wonderful.

It’s been a very long winter for me and is yet only half over. I hope it warms soon so I can work more and not sit here everyday at the ‘mac’ trying not to waste all of this precious time.