1000 and a half: a tribute to JD Salinger

This is actually a true story: My tribute to J. D. Salinger (as told by Holden Caulfield)

1000. Farewell

This time it's the fat man who sings (click here to listen).
Oh baby!

999. a final word on blogging

i've been at this blog for over two years.
i think posting a 1000 posts qualifies me in some capacity to have an opinion about this endeavor, a more astute opinion than let's say my friends benny or andy, who think blogging is for mental patients (their words, not mine).
for me personally, blogging is vane, self-indulgent and so not like me when i'm disconnected from the network.

this particular blog though has become just a little more than an exercise in ego.
it's been a place to get my inside out.
not that anyone else cares.
but i do.
it's something that can't be helped.
it's in my wiring.
mom is a professional impressionist artist, one brother a professional jazz musician, another owns a restaurant, another a dealer of music collectibles, and dad was on his way to play short-stop for the yankees (if my stinky little ass didn't come along).

as for me?
much like dad, i did the expected thing.
college, job, marriage, house, job, job, divorce, job, job, marriage, kid, condo, job, townhouse, job, house, divorce, job, relationship, condo, no job, no condo, job, move-in, no job. 
well, i guess maybe not exactly what was expected.
but pretty close.

and all the while, all i ever felt was the funny.
can't explain it.
hell, if thirty years of corporate lockdown couldn't knock the humor right out of me, nothing could.
what was a guy suppose to do?

well, this guy needed to let that humor out and this blogging thing was just what the doctor ordered.
unclogging through blogging.
it's better than a colon cleanse for sure.
and now i'm unclogged.
it's all out.
all the time.
and i can't put a lid on it.
not yet anyway.

so where was i?
oh yeah, blogging.
yup, it's all a bit narcissistic if you ask me.
then again, almost any shared expression of our inner self could be considered so.
but i guess to some it just comes naturally.
i'm possibly such a person.

someone once asked me when told i was a blogger, "why do you think anyone would want to read your blog?"
i had no answer at the time.
now, a year and a half and hundreds of post later with a modest readership at best, i still don't know why anyone would.
maybe the question has a wayward implication.
that somehow there is a shallow sense of self importance in all of this.

well, i do remember challenging myself on this very point.
almost quit altogether.
but i didn't.
i didn't because i needed to express myself.
that's why i blog.
because i've never been able to keep the funny in.

and while this is my last official written post of Cranelegs Pond (number 1000 will be an audio post), i have other blogs chugging along and a new one that picks up from where this one is leaving off.

so i guess this is my paint brush, my guitar pick, my kitchen.
this is my blog.

997. about counseling

i've been thinking about this lately.
i've been to counseling of various sorts at least four times throughout my human being career.
i've always have been a big supporter of it.
but i'm not so sure anymore.

i mean, where has it gotten me?

i'm still weepy during sleepless in seattle.
i'm still petrified of heights and spiral stair cases.
i'm still obsessed with hockey fights.
i'm still concerned about how to split an eight slice pizza three ways evenly.
i'm still avoiding conflicts at every turn.
i'm still a tattle tale.
i'm still not able to deal with bully bosses.
and i'm still delusional about my calling.

on the bright side, i have gotten a better grip on this partnering thing—the takeaway being "always answer with questions", like the counselors do.

keaton, "do i look fat in these jeans?"
me, "why do you ask?"
keaton, "i don't know. i just feel fat."
me, "why do you feel fat?"
keaton, "just because."
me, "just because why?"
keaton, "oh nevermind."
me, "who nevermind?"
keaton, "you!"
me, "how does that make you feel that i should nevermind?"
keaton, "ya see? now i can't even remember what i asked."
me thinking, whew!

personally, i suspect much of this improvement on my part is a mirage, sustained only by keaton's reluctance to come to her senses.
at least that's the scuttlebutt i hear on the street.

oh well.

995. about love

(as i close in on the magic 1000, i have few moments left to weigh in on love. my avoidance has ended.)

love can strike quickly and without warning, or grow slowly and with great deliberation.
it can be frivolous and fun, or stern and labored.
it can erupt for strangers, or blossom with friends.
regardless when or for whom it does, it can be beautifully fragile and softly shortlived like a butterfly, or rock solid and coldly cured like cement.
all the while privately endured, mutually shared and publicly judged.

it's something so unpredicatable isn't it?
prized by some.
dismissed by others.
 
well, for better or worse, good times and bad, i have little choice but to pursue it mightily.

994. fixing the english language

it's about time we started to fix the english language, with all its misspellings and broken rules.
it doesn't have to be all at once.
maybe five fixes a year for starters and see how it goes from there.
and at the top of my list is straightening out "lay, lie, lying, laid, lied, lain" and that whole mess.
my recommendation is to scrap it all and use the damn rules.

lay (to place down): lay, layed, and had layed (like "play" for chrissakes).
lie (to tell an untruth): lie, lied, had lied
lie (recline): change it to "lay" and its new rules (most of us already do it that way anyway)

and while were at it, could mississippi just change the damn spelling to the way it sounds: mrs. sippy.

others?