parents sent me some pix

The pic of the two-story house is my grandmother's old home, the house where I was born in...it looks a lot different now, of course. The house was built on stilts, as was the custom and the area underneath was used to keep our pigs and chickens. The current owners finished the lower level and completely re-did the upper. . . so basically just the shell is the original house.
The other photo is my parent's new home that they are renting--pretty posh compared to what our relations are living in and you can also spot their Toyota whatcamacallit--some kind of van that only sells in the Asian market. I think my father says a brand new three bedroom home with all modern ammenities costs around $35K (USD). The per capita income for Thais is still around $2500. . .
The kids with the race horse are one of my cousin's sons--he seems awfully young to be riding on a horse, doesn't he? Very dangerous . . .
The other pic is just some neighbor kids quequeing up for some ice cream. Thirty-two years ago, I probably walked down the same dirt roads or something pretty similar...

bbbbwwwwwooooooyyyyyyyyyy

First semester grades were just posted for my son, Z-Man...
high school freshman...

3.8!!!!

proud poppa here--
just 7 more semesters to go, Lord knows I won't be paying for college, so he better keep on keeping on...
and yes, you WAGS, he gets it from his mom-- ;)

places i like to skate (non-skate park)

I like the Performing Arts Center Parking ramp on campus--
they also have a small full-pipe in front of the joint--
apparently, it's called "ART"-- there's skate-stoppers in place, but not enuff . . .
parking ramps in the business district are kool . . .
and there's a few sweet spots around town--
the old folks home has a killer asphalt driveway-- the hill is steeeeep--
there's a perfect manual/ollie spot behind the McDonalds in Okemos--
that's American for the Indian word "Ogiimaas" which means "Little Chief".
painted curbs on in the parking ramps downtown . . .
this one credit union has a steep hill plus killer rails . . .
the community college has several good spots . . .
the state university really has too many spots to mention, but the campus police have been real @#$%&*(+! about enforcing "no skating" laws . . .
my kid's recent favorite is the next block over-- a quarter mile of smoove a$$ asphalt also known as Melrose Avenue . . . tree-lined on both sides and just boootiful and idyllic . . . oh and the Krazy kids that live in tha korner house that we always hear screaming and such . . . the little one RIPS at the skatepark-- he drops into the EGG BOWL like it's nothing!!
and i do believe he's 6 YEARS OLD!!
when i was in school at the state U.
i would skate everywhere
sometimes even to class . . .
I try to introduce my kids to all kinds of different terrain . . .
they seem to appreciate the park more that way . . .
I love the campus--it's huge and it's beautiful, especially in the spring and summer, so we skate there quite a bit . . .
luckily for us, it can be pretty quiet in the summer--
Did you see the Mike V. video---Driven--Ian MacKaye said some really cool stuff about how skateboarders reinvent and reimagine the landscape . . . my kids and I will be riding in the car and one of us will see something and say . . . "Man that's a skateable hill" or some such kraziness . . . it's not as smoove as the skate park . . . but it's still doable . . . I think that's what keeps me young . . .

tat

not very good photos but these are the only ones i have so far...
medicine wheel w/eagle feathers courtesy of one of my wife's cousins...
i'd like to get something Buddhist-related on the other arm and my kid's names somewhere--maybe on my back...

slow it down

She talks to everyone like they’re four years old,
Long and slow, enunciating every word,
Vacant expression on her face,
Never ever varies her pace.
Repeating everything you say,
Always trying to explain,
But she has no clue what she is talking about,
Talking to her exasperates, makes you want to shout.
Trying to sound like she is doing something,
Trying to hide the fact that she knows next to nothing,
Slow and steady, steady as she goes,
How she ever got hired, nobody knows.
She likes to tell us that she has paid her dues,
And she’s not doing no more nothing for these fools,
Only problem is that the rest of us have to pick up the slack,
Covering for her, while trying to take care of our own stacks.
Out of the blue, completely off the cuff,
She’ll make weird statements about all kinds of stuff,
Like the fact that she has been saved,
Praises Jesus, sounding semi-crazed.
Not that any of us had ever asked,
But share she does and testifies to the last.
She seems to forget that I’m a born-again pagan,
Praying to the infinite and mysterious creation,
My co-lead is driving me crazy,
Cannot believe someone can be so lazy.
I try to lead the shift by example,
What little she does, she feels is ample,
On an on I go, beginning to ramble,
Gotta slow it down, can’t take a gamble.
I need to give exactly what I get,
Need to follow the example of the vets,
Slow it down, don’t make no sound,
Do the absolute minimum, when no one is around.

mouth agape

Mouth agape as he moves about,
Makes him look like some average lout,
Mustache once hid the mouth agape,
All that changed with fickle fate.
Diagnosed with cancer of the lung,
Face drawn and haggard, shoulders hunched,
Mover and shaker, now beaten and old,
Shoulders hunched from a heavy load.
His once full shock of hair now barren,
Hanging loosely are the clothes he’s wearing,
Trudges through the office without a word,
Used to fill the office with loud long bursts.
Laughing and yelling, trumpeting his arrival,
Everyone awaits his eventual revival,
This little office is his baby,
Stuck at home, he was going crazy.
Never had kids, gave his life to the department,
As his stock rose, so ours also went,
But without the captain at the helm,
We floundered into unknown realms.
We have taken on so many projects,
Like so much water flooding the deck,
The ship is slowing sinking,
No one seems to have any inkling.
Will the hair regrow, will he regain his strength,
We can only wait and see, we have to go the length,
Meanwhile we have to sit and watch,
The shadow of the man cancer has debauched.
Some say philosophy should drive policy,
But seeing for myself this seems a fallacy,
Personality seems to trump anything,
Charisma and charm decides who shall be king.
So our fate rests on his shoulders,
We employees are his loyal soldiers,
Doing his bidding we ride into battle,
To the slaughter we go like so much cattle.
Mouth agape as he silently watches,
Regurgitating repeating everything he taught us,
Body wracked with pain and disease,
Hanging on bitterly to his beliefs.
His life’s work hangs in the balance,
He has never backed down from any challenge,
But the king has fallen and shall not return,
His kingdom shall be set to the torch and shall burn.
This last battle shall break him and we will mourn,
And decry our fates with anger and scorn,
On our shields his body we shall carry,
And with him our own dreams we will bury.

hazy yester-daze

I dulled the pain and hid my shame,
Turned my back on society and the game,
Life was a joke which I refused to engage,
Suppressed my anger and my rage.
Spent my days in a drunken haze,
Only to be awoken by her beautiful face,
I succumbed to her promises and lies,
I reconnected and formed new ties.
Ties that bind and suffocate,
Leading to blame and unfettered hate,
You will blame me, she once said to me,
But I didn’t believe, refused to see.
You aren’t completely to blame,
I share the burden just the same,
I chose to believe and I chose to love,
But sometimes love alone is not enough.
I strayed many many times,
But I repented for my crimes,
Always went back for the children,
They always seemed to pull me back in.
Romantic love means nothing to me,
A lie dreamt up by our society,
The love of my children is the only truth,
Still so hard to remain under the same roof.
Why did she bother with me from the start,
Just to crush my soul and break my heart,
They say to let sleeping dogs lie,
How did she ever convince me to try.
I’m longing for my hazy yesterdays,
Hiding from the sun’s blinding rays,
Locked into my own private hell,
Sleeping wherever I fell.
Cleaned up and came back to life,
For my love, for my wife,
Only to be left alone,
Even though we still share a home.
Might as well be living somewhere else,
Would make life easier living by myself,
But why should I be the one to leave,
What would me leaving really achieve.
Now it is much too late,
Can’t go back now that I’m awake,
My children are counting on me,
Need me to remain chemical-free.
Just wish she would step up to the plate,
No need for any further debate,
I don’t care if she does right by me,
As long as she gives them whatever they need.

steady downward decline

Um. . . I’m missing a tire on the right front side.
Yeah, I got a flat.
No, its not flat, the tire’s gone.
Can’t be—I rode home on the flat.
You rode home on the rim, quarter-panel’s all jacked.
Someone must have hit me.
I’m taking the other car. I gotta get to work.

Steady downward decline,
Been going on for some time,
Drunken binges free of guilt,
Destroying everything that we have built.
Don’t know which way to turn,
Karma coming around, now I’m getting burned,
Was my time to mess everything up,
Now my head is clear, but I’ve had enough.
It’s not even about me, you fighting your own battle,
Been waiting patiently, waiting for the death rattle,
When will this end, when can we move past,
Feel we must complete the book, the die has been cast.
More and more it seems so out of control,
More often than not, you seem so distant and cold,
All the plans that we made, sacrificing for the kids,
But the ship’s sinking fast, abandon the bridge.
Sing the song of mourning, then the time is done,
Move on with the living, stop living on the run,
Full circle back to the start,
Trying to live according to my heart,
Always questioning, never accepting,
Self-blaming, forever regretting.
Self-loathing, whatever happens, somehow deserving,
Created my own hell, situation is getting unnerving,
Always felt that I didn’t deserve any better,
Casting my own iron chains and fetters.
All kidding aside, can’t seem to just say no,
Pain threshold high, keeps adding to my woe,
Cannot say I’ve had enough, want no more,
Deserve everything I get, rotten to the core.
Getting what I gave, getting my just desserts,
Nothing more, nothing less, too late to revert,
Hiding my own guilt, laughing at my sorry self,
I’ve made my own bed, cannot blame anyone else.

more pow wow pix

MSU Pow Wow is only a week away . . . I haven't really been paying much attention to the pow wow schedule . . . B and the kids won't start dancing again until after the one-year anniversary of Shiloh's passing. The following photos are of folks we'll probably see next Friday-- first is Little E's "Gwoylefwend Gwacie", from Green Bay; next is Dennis, from Ontario and his half-brother, Sam, from Oklahoma; then we have Wes, who is from Pontiac; and lastly Adrian, who now lives in Chicago, but grew up in the Detroit area.

why blog?

This question comes up from time-to-time.
Why do I blog at all? And why do I continue to blog?
My most recent blog is about nine months old and has received something like 65 hits, so it isn’t for the fame and fortune.
I started my first blog in November of 2005, right after having a major meltdown with one of my co-workers. I was having problems at work and one evening, had all I could take—I assailed the co-worker with a tirade of obscenities before storming out and jumping into my car.
I realized then that I needed some way to release some of these pent-up emotions. The first version of the blog was named miizii-dip and served as a conduit for negative emotions which had been simmering for some time.
As time passed, the blog became a means of remembering and recording old memories—first for my self, then for my children. In the never-ending quest to pay bills, it was easy to forget all those things that had taken place over the years. I have a pretty good memory about some things—maybe because of the crazy nature of my childhood. I wanted to consider where I had been, to remind my self of who I was. Eventually, I wanted to share those stories with my children as well. They might still be too young to appreciate any of this—just ramblings of their crazy old dad, but maybe it might give them a glimpse of who I was, if only for that moment in time.
As this little project has continued, I realized that I enjoy the creative process. I enjoy making something out of nothing and being able to share it, even if the audience is extremely small. Even if the two people that read this blog tire of it, I think I would continue. It has opened something up in me that has been shut down for a very long time.
I was skimming channels the other night and caught the end of Criminal Minds—the voiceover quoted Erich Fromme, which I’ll paraphrase:
“You have to make the decision to either create or destroy. You have to decide whether you will love or hate.”
I read Fromme when I was younger and thought it was a bit simplistic—everything seemed so dualistic, either/or. I have to recant my earlier statements on the matter—this seemingly simple statement held a lot of meaning for me suddenly. What am I doing with my life? Am I creating or destroying? Do I love or hate?
For most of my history, I have been overly-destructive, mostly with my “self”. Overly critically of things and people that I did not understand. I spent an inordinate amount of time hating or despising things or events which are outside my realm of influence.
This is just a simple little blog, an exercise in writing meditation . . . but my life has changed considerably since I began it. Instead of reacting to forces in my life, reacting to events, I can at least consider the causes and attempt to make positive changes to my own life. I have become an active participant in my daily dramas. This blog and the Old Man Army website has opened me up to my life and the lives of others… the creative process also connects me to life in a way that I had not imagined.
These are small baby steps—I am not sure where this will lead . . . but it is leading me toward life and not away from it as I had been going before. So blog on I will . . . for it brings me happiness, forces me to connect, forces me to think and consider . . .