Casper, and life….

I could see Casper. Never really understood that. Thought ‘ghost’ meant disappearing. Also thought ghost meant eerie, spooky, should makeya skeered. Casper was nonea that.

Dating. Casper. Happens. What is often this fullcourt press, go baby go, we can’t get there fast enough, gimme mo’ gimme mo’ – turns ghostly. Gone. Disappeared. In a heartbeat, a flash. From boiling to cold.

Been on both ends. Unlike ghosts, hard to see through, understand. Reckon that chase to find out ‘why’ simply ain’t worth it. Could cast a thousand reasons, perhaps none correctly.

Too loud, too soft, too forward, cold, wanted younger, wanted older, insecure, too secure, ended last time – why jump in again….. too big, too small, too rich, too poor, arrogant, wimpy, just not sure… I saw cracks.. it’s not you, it’s me.. it’s not me, it’s you… Outta here…. Exit, stage left.

Mebbe why…. as a child, I was enthralled (ok, enter the word ‘crush’ here) with Elizabeth Montgomery and Barbara Eden… A twinkle of the nose, or arms crossed, folded, your wish is my command, I’m a ghost. Can disappear. Can move things and you won’t see. Can change life in a millisecond.

High School reunion planning party last Sunday. Huge list, printed out in what musta been size 8 type (go figure).. Damn.. I remember him/her… where the hell did they disappear to?.. Fell off the facea the earth when we graduated. Ghostly. Like Casper, friendly ghosts.

We, in life, jump in and out ghostlike. There are some days, I feel like being holed up in my bed, ashtray by my side, remote in right hand, cig in left – and please leave me alone, I’m Casper today, ghostly, don’t wanna come out.. get the help outta here, I’m disappearing.

Then, there’s them days where ya wanna revisit, see, every GD (gosh darn) friend, past lover, coworker, acquaintance you ever met……. yet…….. now THEY’VE disappeared.

Depression makes one ghostly. Sad endings lean one thataway. Fear of tomorrow make us hide inside the sleeping bag.. On second thought, in dating, brings on the Casper inside us..

My singledom, unofficially began sometime around the turn of the century.. Being the online idiot that I am, I've yapped with many along the way via Yahoo Instant Message. Gotta huge list of friends there. As age, time, destroyed brain cells happen – I now look at somea the names and wonder – whothehell is that? I don’t even remember either one of us disappearing…

U can run thru the list a names.. (Ok, I can then).. Can’t remember why ‘ghost’ happened. Did. Can’t change. Sometimes don’t wanna. Sometimes wish the meeting had never happened.

We is what we was. Huh? Yeah, you/me. Our past defines us, even when one is being ghostly, or being ‘ghosted’. Each name, face, figure – they’re our past, no matter how whimsically short the one-on-one mighta been. For a time, there was feel. Feel is great, no matta how fleeting.

I thank goodness for my computer – for it’s (kinda) kept me young. You ever see how fast a fitty-seven year old run inside after a 45 minute commute to see if-by-chance “she” has emailed? Almost ghostly.

Darn, that disappearing thing again. Everything ends. Everything. I spose, if we had that figured out, ‘ghost’ wouldn’t bug us so much. I just read a lady’s profile (Victor, tell my you’re not still doing that… sorry, am) and she said “So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back.” That’s perty cool. Friggin ghosts everywhere. Screw ‘em. Love ‘em. We ARE ghosts, all of us. Disappearing happens, one day – with finality.

Don’t let it spookya. Don’t try to reason. Victor, whothehell are you to advise? Remember buckethead, I have said time and time again – sometimes I simply talk to ME here. Remind myself. Prop the head up. Keep the passion flowin. Live baby, live.

Ghosts. Disappearing. Fun in the meantime. Hey. Boo. Have a spooktacular resta the week. Love, Victurd

S’more short……

Thirty minutes til work bell… I gotta type this, transfer it over to blog & Myspace.. go smoke a cig…… Yikes!

As in “who cares”, but Saturday, I had onea them ‘guttural’ moments… back at my great nephew’s football stadium… great kid… our family has just kinda become unwoven ‘thanks’ to too many deaths… too many weird circumstances…

In a millisecond, my heart went back to…… my mind envisioned…. the feel went thru my body… of when everything was “right.”

The world’s biggest wimp, me, simply cried as I stood alone over in the smoking area… I’d hear the kid’s name announced for a tackle – and the mems were there… he and his grandma – bright eyed, she so proud… I cried.. a good cry.. Feeling… guttural…

I just feel (thank goodness) that if one doesn’t feel, if one doesn’t have a moment where they ‘breakdown’, reflect, thank, re-envision… shake… eye moisture… smile… then the hell is the use in being here.

Shit does happen. Shit can’t shake the memories of good though… Good is etched for’er. You can take away my eyesight, but you’ll never dislodge the visions/good of yesteryear..

Crying… shaking… everything around emitting emotion.. . thanks oh Lord.. for I have felt.. and to have felt, I’ve lived.. and to have lived, I’ve loved. And for that I am thankful too.. .

At times life is akin to a reel to reel tape….. snaps… just when it was going good…

Back soon…….. got some splicin’ to do……. Happy Tuesday, love, Victurd