Attachment Theory

 My biggest pasttime right now seems to be doing some type of therapy.  I'm getting a little tired of it, but only because my brain soaks that shit up like a sponge and then doesn't want to let go of it.  The latest thing I've been working on is digging into attachment theory -- looking at why I have what seems to be a fairly fucked-up mix of desperately needing validation from an intimate relationship AND perfect comfort with the idea of never seeing another human being again.  And yet it all seems to feel perfectly normal to me.  

Currently sitting contentedly on the couch listening to mostly soft tunes, reading ol' Jacky Kerouacky, while Jeanners and the kids are out at a kid birthday party, nary an illuminated overhead light in sight, lamplight only please.  

Ah, but who cares?  As each day passes, I'm less convinced that this all means anything, and I wasn't particularly convinced before anyway.  

I think I'm just feeling a little bleak today.  There's been some death and illness around me lately, and it's got my outlook a little bit on the gloomy side.  

Raw Fat

 Over the summer, I came up with my new stripper name:  Raw Fat.  

Waylon J

I been on a big-ass Waylon Jennings kick lately.  The production on some of his mid-70's albums is so simple and so god-damned stellar.  

Colon "Oscopy" Powell

 Well, I had my first colonoscopy this morning, and I loved it.  For real.  I loved the prep and its corresponding hours of diarrhea, I loved the procedure, I loved the anesthesia, and I love having a day off work.  The only two things I did not like were the taste of the prep medicine and the feeling of the IV in my hand.  Maybe it was the lack of food in my system or maybe it was because I had very low expectations for the whole thing but I was in a slight state of euphoria for the entire time.  

Also, I would like to give a big shout out to (sorry MJ) propofol.  Damn, I was asleep.  I wouldn't think that I would sleep through someone jamming a camera into my poop shoot, but I sure enough did.  My first time on anesthesia and I give it two solid thumbs up.  

I've had a bag of ravioli in the freezer downstairs for many months now and I've been waiting for the right time to enjoy it, and I have chosen right now as that time and it is G  O  O  D.  

I debated posting some colon pictures, but I'm not sure if there's any demand out there for them.  So I've decided not to.  But if anybody wants to see some pictures of (the inside of) my colon, please leave a comment and I'll get them right up in the next post.  And yes, the "retroflexed view in the rectum" is included.  

Kids, if you're reading this....

 When I started writing this blog, it was for two reasons:  

1.  My memory is crap and I'm sure that one day in the hopefully distant future it will be entirely gone and maybe reading these witty and hilarious episodes from my life will help me hold on to some semblance of "self," and

2.  So that if I died prematurely my future children (when I started I had no actual children yet) might get a sense of what I was like, and, more importantly, what my poop was like.  

Well, yesterday one of those future children started reading some of these old blog posts over my shoulder and discovered that I have been not-so-secretly recording my thoughts, feelings, and poopings online for the last 20-ish years or so.  He immediately wanted to read the harrowing account of his birth (and has subsequently concluded that his life is not worth the ordeal that Jeannie went through [which is untrue], he then wanted to see if I had written anything about his conception (I had not), and he laughed pretty hard at the MOO PANTS post.  

And so it feels a little weird to know that my kids may actually read some of this stuff while I'm still around.  

I have, for the last year or so, tried to censor myself less when I'm around them, and to be my complete, vulgar, confused, imperfect self when I'm with them, and to tell them what I really think and what I really feel about things, so I'm not necessarily worried about them reading that sort of stuff in here, but I worry a little bit about the sort of thing that has already happened:  if they read about how difficult their birth was that they might conclude that they were not worth it.  Or when they read about how much I just wanted to sleep when they were babies, they might think that I wasn't also 100% completely in love with being a new dad.  That's the thing about parenting -- it is 90% shitty and 100% wonderful at the same time.  And I worry that maybe I only wrote about the shittiness.  Or wrote more about the shittiness than the wonderfulness.  

And so, kiddos, if you ever are feeling like you're alone in this world, or that your existence has caused more difficulties than joy, or that you contain only shittiness and no wonderfulness, please allow me to tell you, once and for all, permanently (because things on the internet live forever):  the amount of pride, love, and joy I feel whenever I think of you is immeasurable, and your company has brought me more excitement and joy than anything else I've experienced in my time on Earth.  

Alright, now that that's out of the way, let me tell you about my poop lately:  it's been pretty damned good.  There was a stretch there where the consistency was good but it was requiring A LOT of wiping (which is never fun and makes me want to swear off pooping entirely), but then the family and I went to the HIBACHI GRILL AND BUFFET for Father's Day (my choice) and I had a supremely greasy assortment of foods, and things are sliding out pretty cleanly.  

$$$$$$$

Million dollar idea:  a New Order tribute band called New Odor.  

Ok, maybe not a million dollar idea, but def a hundred dollar idea.

Russell pt ii

It is 3:46 in the morning, and I'm wide awake, thinking about my friend Russell who died late Tuesday or early Wednesday.  What a friend he was.  In the last 10 years, I've spoken more to Russell than to anybody else, with the exception of Jeannie, maybe.  Russell was truly a brother from another mother.  My mind has just been swimming for the last couple of days, and it's complicated because we were friends and coworkers.  I'm grieving his loss as a friend while at the same time worrying about how to replace him as an employee.  Ugh. The thought of doing this job without Russell seems 1000 times less appealing.  The thought of not having Russell to talk to, of not having his care and his warm smile be a nearly daily part of my life, seems cold and flat and scary.  I am so grateful for the time that he was a part of my life and I am going to miss him terribly.  Also, I'm going to be speaking at the funeral and I'm worried about that.  Probably going to lose it.  Or spew banalities like the ones I've written here.  Or both.  But really, I'm just trying to get shit out so I can sleep.  Ugh ugh ugh.