tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67510851420840800192011-04-21T15:23:58.706-07:00I live here, in a trailer by the sea, and I see things out my window, in my mind, and through my oddly focused perspective. Then I sit down and write, and what comes out can be funny, sad, or sometimes both. So, if you have a few minutes, stay a while and take a look at a couple of my stories. Who knows, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.comBlogger191100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-19689390578285484352007-06-27T11:22:00.001-07:002007-06-27T11:26:17.511-07:00

I know I haven't posted anything since May 9 (yikes!) and for that unannounced hiatus, I apologize. As an excuse of sorts, I must plead "happiness." I have come to realize that many of my essays derive from my unhappiness, disquiet, or just plain curmudgeoness. Lately those sources have been unavailable to me, as I am going through a period of unexpected happiness and contentment. A beautiful

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-17493064517982513912007-06-27T11:05:00.000-07:002007-06-27T11:21:06.171-07:00

How Do I Drop Thee . . . Let Me Count the WaysDropping a motorcycle is not as easy as it looks. I am not talking about low sides, high sides, laying it down, acing the bike, hitting some oil, coolant or black ice, or any other term for getting ass over tea kettle at speed -- anybody can do that. Just get a bike, point it straight down the road, pin the throttle, and wait for the fun when it

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-66584604125138089242007-05-09T07:15:00.000-07:002007-05-09T07:19:21.947-07:00

I went shopping the other day at Gelson’s, a seriously high falutin’ supermarket. They have aisles as wide as Wilshire boulevard, and they’re totally clear of those little kiosks of merchandise that turn a trip down an aisle of Ralph’s into a game of bumper pool. They also have an army of employees who do nothing except patrol those same aisles, and whose primary job is to replace any item you

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-78347761194048765992007-04-27T22:43:00.000-07:002007-04-27T23:22:03.311-07:00

That learning sometimes begins when you are hurting the mostThat sometimes something good happens, even to meThat I don’t know how to listen, but that I can learn if motivated enoughThat Love is one hell of a motivatorThat good sex isn’t enough but it’s awfully closeThat loneliness is dying aliveThat I do not have to settle for a purely comfortable relationshipThat I’m a good man but I can still

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-58254587319700926202007-04-22T22:47:00.000-07:002007-04-23T23:28:14.596-07:00

Well, it’s time for another update on this getting older thing. You will recall, that when last we met, I was 61. Okay, it wasn’t that long ago, I’m still 61, but there’s a lot going on with aging that I haven’t talked about so let’s start.First thing you should understand is that there is good and bad about getting on in life. We all tend to focus on the bad things, because these usually

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-67634174487540900472007-04-12T21:21:00.000-07:002007-04-13T23:59:05.626-07:00

A cigar is not a thing usually shared. You don’t pass a cigar from mouth to mouth. Well, at least men don’t do that. I don’t even think cigar smoking women would do that. But, a few years back, my younger son had come to visit with me in Seattle where I was managing a tour to promote Fruitopia, Coca Cola’s superfluous answer to Snapple. His name is Zach. His older brother is Ari. First

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-17659963283041453122007-03-24T20:23:00.000-07:002007-03-24T20:24:31.065-07:00

If you are old enough to remember the Ed Sullivan show, you will recall that it was a variety show on television way back when, 50’s and early 60’s I believe. Black and white, of course, with all sorts of strange and wonderful acts and guest star singers and comedians. The lesser acts were either animal acts, magicians, ventriloquists, etc., more suited to a circus I think, but Ed had an hour

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-67436637493417270232007-03-16T15:11:00.000-07:002007-03-16T16:42:55.065-07:00

One was crushed by betrayal. One, lost in a world of women, had never known the friendship of men. A young one had the courage to show himself in front of his girlfriend’s father, and the father had the wisdom to invite him in. Another one brought his wounded soul that had sent him to the company of prostitutes where he could hide from relationships. Two were brothers, with rage

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-80815365924907542692007-02-25T03:57:00.000-08:002007-02-25T04:03:34.717-08:00

I once jumped out of a plane. I had a parachute on ( I guess I don’t really need to say that). I had signed up for a full day of skydiving lessons, which would culminate in a type of beginner’s jump, called Accelerated Free Fall. I know you must be thinking, how or why would one accelerate a free fall. Isn’t terminal velocity fast enough? Do you strap Wiley Coyote rockets to your feet, point

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-61882317093928721042007-02-15T21:07:00.000-08:002007-02-16T06:44:35.226-08:00

(This isn't really about Valentine's Day, but darned if that damn holiday didn't just jump up and bite me, so it seemed a good time to publish this piece.) Love Like a WomanA while back I viewed a photo of some soldiers having just gotten off a troop transport, and in the foreground was a woman, with her two children in

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-90891818702966252182007-02-11T18:28:00.000-08:002007-04-12T21:28:37.548-07:00

I was going to write about procrastination. I am a black belt. But the fact that I am finally at this computer puts an end to my latest go round. I wish I could just get past it for one time in my life, but then again, life may be just my way of procrastinating until I die. I think I’ll write more on this later – if I find the time.I have several favorite movies, but there are only two that

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-15437785075458302802007-02-04T21:10:00.000-08:002007-02-04T21:15:42.949-08:00

So it's 10:06 PM, somewhere in the Near Valley, and a tallish, “some say attractive,” woman sits down to make an honest plea for an honest man. Sure, she's doing it on Craigslist, with it's clientele of men unwilling to take the time and/or money to invest themselves in a more traditional online dating service. CL is easy, quick, very cheap, which is good because that's what most of them are

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-68234869363766453042007-02-02T21:45:00.000-08:002007-02-03T08:37:34.145-08:00

(not that short, not all that long either, sort of an average length film)FADE IN: (The scene opens on a shot from above of a car speeding and weaving dangerously on PCH. The person driving is either running from or to someone. We watch as the car careens into a seaside jungle paradise known as Ocean View Trailer Park. As we follow the car up the twisting roads deep into the dark forbidding

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-89089714814649293292007-01-28T23:10:00.000-08:002007-01-28T23:17:34.993-08:00

What happened? You want to know what happened? I’ll tell you what happened!! One day I’m looking in the mirror and I have no idea who the fuck is looking back at me. He could be Chinese for all I could recognize about him. I mean to tell you he was old. Not Strom Thurmond old, but well past his prime if you know what I mean. And he had the goddamnedest expression on his face. He looked

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-15745613059659900902007-01-27T00:10:00.000-08:002007-01-27T17:52:25.811-08:00

Writing isn’t easy for me, especially beginnings. Once I get rolling, it usually just flows out and takes me places I had no idea I was heading. When I have a plan or preconceived idea of what I want to write about, the piece usually sucks, with forced humor and words that just don’t sound like I wrote them. But starting a journey without any idea of where you are heading can be a scary thing.

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-80296394929146864122007-01-19T23:53:00.000-08:002007-01-25T19:22:33.681-08:00

During the 11 years since the end of my marriage, there came a time when I decided I needed to date. That word still doesn't sound right to me. A man of middle age shouldn't "date," anymore than he should have a "girlfriend," unless of course she happens to be 19, and is totally smitten with you in spite of all your money. Even if I was a gazillionaire, I don't think I could have anything

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-91930516019385086522007-01-15T16:31:00.000-08:002007-01-17T14:20:47.163-08:00

I want to talk about sex – not sex in the abstract or sex in the past, but right now, up-to-the-minute, down and dirty, sex in the senior set. Those of you who are past 50 are now leaning forward, eager to read every word and savor the revelation that sexuality does not expire at 40. Also, you probably don’t see so good, so leaning forward helps. Those of you younger than 50, if you haven’t

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-7399196442942869212007-01-07T19:23:00.000-08:002007-01-07T19:33:12.607-08:00

I never played catch with my sons. I’ll pause here to let that put a tear in your eye. When each of them was five, they tried T-ball but were bored silly. Besides, you can’t have a catch with a five year old. Soon we all got into AYSO, so goodbye baseball, hello football . . . okay, hello soccer. When they got older I tried to initiate this hallowed father and son ritual, but discovered to my

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751085142084080019.post-42238370403006578842007-01-04T17:25:00.000-08:002007-01-07T19:31:10.428-08:00

I live in a trailer now. it’s not a mobile home, but a genuine 1961 Detroiter that’s in a mobile home park on PCH, just across from the beach. It’s a friggin' dump -- not the park, just the trailer, with leaky plumbing and old dog smells in the frayed carpet that my dogs are only too willing to add to when I am not there or asleep. You have no idea how much fun it is to step in dog pee on your

The Old Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708040132559541555noreply@blogger.com2