Hello darkness my old friend

I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

One of the best times I've ever had, was on the patio of a restaurant - good friends, sitting around. We knew each other, the basics - where we worked, who our mates were/weren't/usedta be, the car we drove, where we grew up, the basic chumminess of fairly frequent meets. Thick, yet shallow. The topic came up "let's go around the circle, and tell one thing about yourself that no one else knows." The answers amazed, and lent depth to a greater, more loving friendship.

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

To me, we (most, many) live in a world where feelings, thoughts, wants, yearns are pent up - and that's so very sad. Bravo to the man or woman having capable partner/friend to explore oral 'orgasm', ie sharing ALL feelings, thoughts, ideas about not only one's self - but those of the other.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

Day by day, mechanical. Pleasant, sure - yet almost artificial. Departing if I may from depth, one day it was myself, and four women on break at work. I noticed all four women talking at the same time (and if this borders gender discrimination - have at, as with tongue in cheek - it's just one true descriptor for the WONDERFUL feminine species).. anyways, all four were talking, so I asked "If there are four women, and all four are talking, who's listening?"

We talk, we greet, we smalltalk - we rarely deep talk. Discriminating on gender again, we men are ingrained "to not compliment, to not explore depth of character." Makes me wanna gag and Garfunkel.

"Fools", said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence.

Sure, do as I say, not as I do - but I'm working on that. (I write to/for me, hitchhikers welcome).. See a person down? Ask 'em if they wanna talk. See a person looking/acting very vibrant, let 'em know "you're looking, feeling vibrant." Victor, you must be genuine though - otherwise it reverts to people talking without speaking - people hearing without listening. Dig? Uh huh, thanks.

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls"
And whispered in the sounds of silence.

Today's pace for the everyday race for the mortgage is frenetic. I'm going to try to listen more, talk less. Drive slower, observe more. Ask questions to/of friends that make them think (and genuinely know I care) "hmmm, it's really nice this person cares enough about me to ask that, therefore, I'm pretty sure he/she cares, I'll remember that, and pay it forward."

It ain't about age. So many of my young friends amaze me. Guy at work, never fails, before I can get out "Hi", he's already spouted "Hi Vic, how are you doing?" It too is possible for a 14 year old to have more depth than a 60 year old. Shame on us. Let's start today, doing better, warding off the sounds of silence, REALLY get to know better (deeper) those in our every day life, and even our family members.

Simon was 22 years old when he wrote this - already keen to the frailty the sounds of silence lend. Far out. Groovy even. Love, Victurd.

To the outhouse, by Willie Makeit, Part 1 of who knows how many.

100 days. I write with apologies to my friend Sanford - who has been working out faithfully since we graduated 44 years ago. Apologies to cousin Steve who has ridden his bike more miles than my '99 Grand Marquis has on it (He even conquered the Katy Trail.. the ENTIRE Katy Trail.) To my friend Terri - who has run more marathons than there are days in a month.

I recently was moved by a lady's thingy on youtube where she posted time lapse photos of her throughout 100 consecutive days of exercise. She dropped 28 lbs, got under her sub-300 lb goal, and happy to report continues to lose weight.

I am tired of looking at pictures of me, and having them resemble a Christmas tree sans ornaments. Many things, I'm not disciplined. Exercise being one of those. I go, I do, I quit shortly thereafter.

So, figured if I wrote about it, I'd have to stay on my own butt to continue on. So, writing. Saturday, January 11, yeah, I'll start then. Saturday comes. "It was a long week at work, I deserve a day off, I'll start tomorrow."

Sunday, Jan. 12. "I'll start today, but... but.. I'd better attack that huge pile of laundry first." Victor, you hate doing laundry. "I know, but it does need to get done." Ok.

I suppose along with exercising, I oughta eat more prudently. Need laundry soap. There.. right there in Dollar General - staring at me when I walked in: Little Debbie.. Cap'n Crunch.. Jimmy Dean.. Russell Stover.. Swiss Miss.. Duncan Hines.... mmmmmmmmmmm, yum. "VICTOR! CHEESE IT!... er, I mean get your laundry soap and get the hell outta there." Oh, ok.

Laundry done, it's getting kinda late. Victor - get your butt to the gym. Nope, it's unseasonably warm, I'm going to the track. The last time I started this, I knew I was doomed, as I searched (and found) the closest parking space to the gym. HA! NOT THIS TIME! (I took the 2nd closest spot).

"Walkers and joggers please use lanes 5, 6, 7 & 8." Like that's gonna happen. I wanna go 2 miles, not 2 miles and 342 feet. Lane 1. Two laps in, car pulls up. Crap. Ok, lane 2. Three minutes later, a female gazelle goes around me at a speed I don't think I've ever reached. Eh, it's ok - crap, I am 61. I turn to see if the other gazelle has taken off. Nope, she's old too, probably even older than me.

Half a lap later, the bitch (sorry) passes me. The old one. Eh, it's ok, I've got a blockage in my leg and it hurts like hell - track, you're lucky I'm even here. Finally lap 8 happens, I'm done, and no, I am not going to share how long it took.

To the gym, right after. Might as well lift some weights to develop some tone. "Victor, you need more than 100 days to develop tone." Ok, bite me, I'll go for tonette then. First, I'll walk over here and knockoff some push-ups and crunches. Remember Victor, you usedta do the mandated 100 push-ups in school like it was nuttin'. Uh huh, long time ago. I'm going to do ten to start... After 4th push up "ok, sets of 5 works." I did that, twice.. and I was done. You're more than welcome to laugh at me, I've earned it. Twenty crunches. YES, only 20. Gotta start somewhere.

To the scales. Christmas tree weighs in at 209, ouch. And no. NO time lapse photos here! (You're welcome)..

Two 'laps' around the weight machines - done. Reward myself with sauna, then Jacuzzi. In the sauna, I'm dying. Snotnose basta' maybe 21 walks in.. stands next to heater thing, jogs in place. Basta. 'Nuff sweat, to the Jacuzzi. Ahhhhh, yes, my favorite thing about exercise routine. Up to the jacuzzi walks gorgeous female with not very much material within her swimsuit. Ok, maybe Jacuzzi 2nd favorite thing.

Morning, day 2. Eh, not so bad. Elliptical - only leg weights after. Day three, elliptical, 30 minutes, I ain't gonna tell you how far I made it, at least I made it. Arm weight circuit after. Morning, day 4. My calves and I are not speaking to each other - in fact, they've requested twin beds. Day 5, son/DIL have no car - so, after 8rs work - we run to HyVee, WalMart and the Smoke shop. Eh, it's already 6:45pm, I'll just get in this left lane, pull into the Dish Pizza, have a beer and restart with day 1 tomorrow. "VICTOR!".. To the tune of Alvin the chipmunk.. Victor? Victor? VICTOR? OKAY damnit, I switched lanes, went to gym, worked out.

Yesterday was day 6. I have more pep in my step at work - legs actually better now - but my arms feel like they're ready to fall off. I go, I exercise. I sauna. I Jacuzzi (as does same chick with not very much material within her swimsuit.) I could get used to this. Mebbe.

My father, fittingly, labeled me a follower. I would do projects around home to earn money for going out with friends, phone would ring mid paint stroke - and I was off. Gone. Easily led. I hasten to put this on blog 'cause I ain't sure I'll make it. Gonna. I can handle embarrassment if I don't make it. Pride is hard to swallow - but it will go down.

Today is day 7, I will get through day 7. (I referee little turds [1st/2nd grade] basketball for four, COUNT EM, FOUR hours. ) If that ain't the equivalent to 30 minutes on the elliptical, 2 laps around the weight machine, sauna/Jacuzzi - bite me. I will miss the little material one though. All men are pigs, 100 out of 100 days. Or in this case, 7 out of 7.

Smoking (cough cough cough, gasp) MIGHT be addressed within this 100 day (hopefully) period. Two years ago I bought a vapor cig, never used it, lost it. A bit ago, I bought Nicorette gum, looked at the box the other day, "Expires Oct 2013." I have a new vapor cig in coat pocket. Never used it. Easily led. No discipline. Follower. It's(cough cough cough, gasp) me, who I am.

100 days? Stay tuned - to the outhouse, by Willie Makeit. Love, Victurd.

A year...

Nothing is perfect. Recently, on Golf's Champion Tour, our Kansas Citian Tommy Watson registered a hole in one. A reporter asked him about it after - and hinted of 'luck'. Watson acknowledged, "sure, there's luck involved, but it was where I was aiming."

2013 is in the rear view mirror. It wasn't perfect, never is, but hopefully our aim was. The year taught me (again) I am human. I made some stupid errors - even damaged a friendship because words exited before the thought process reached the brain.

After hours, days, weeks in shame, I Googled "Don't beat yourself up", and am thankful for whoever in the hell invented the internet - and the answer/suggestion for virtually every problem, need, sickness remedy, recipe, how to put an alternator on a '95 Lebaron, etc, etc.

I'm thankful for the upbeat daily postings on Facebook from a guy I graduated with, a gal in Kearney I barely know, the daily biblical verses by a fraternity brother, and so many more.

I'm thankful for the quick postings of inappropriate (but fun/funny) humor from a former co-worker. I'm thankful for people simply asking for prayers - and hope for those that are unable to bring themselves to that - the knowledge that people do care, and many are in the same boat.

I'm thankful FB allows me to share in the fun, travels, hobbies, family events - anniversaries - birthdays, woes, venting, humor, and yes, even the political views of friends here.

Old age, too many damn jobs, six years to complete my four year degree, 52 years of athletics - and a lifetime of touches have blessed me with tons of friends not only on FB, but 'real life' as well. (Thank you to all for your patience on the millions of pictures of my grandkids that I'm 'tagged' in as well.)

I'm thankful for the fervor for sport's teams, the ups/downs within, and of course the banter back and forth over the fence. I'm thankful that those that could care less about sports - whet their fervor appetite here, be it in bread making, knitting, old cars, the blues, astronomy, economics, music, yada.

I'm thankful for the old Liberty group - and it's assistance in keeping yesterday here today.

I'm thankful to catch up with family here. As we spread throughout the US, dwindle in numbers, multiply in numbers - every 'like' really represents 'love.'

It's kinda fun to peek at the number of mutual friends - and to wonder what the view is from your fingers on the FB keyboard - and the hope that you too enjoy as I do. Sandbox, we all had 'em, and there is nothing better than sharing life, observing other's lives, leading our own - in numbers. Life as a single piece of cloth: boring, monotonous. Woven with others, so much more vibrant, strong, comforting, peaceful.

I'll go now, 2014 beckons. The Good Lord willing, I hope for good health for all, and the aim for perfection - and the knowledge "hey, it's ok" if perfection doesn't happen.

Happy New Year, to each his/her own, intermingled. Victurd.