Thursday 8 May 2025

Rel Render my pal who reads my blog posts sez I should stop posting all this dark shit. The kind of stuff nobody wants to read. Maybe he’s right. My point-of-view is generally negative. I spend a lot of time talking about being old and demented and near death. Griping about how grim life is.

I aint ly’n though!!!

life is grim. Let’s face it, we’re in a bug eat bug world here.

Then you got your human man eaters.

Life is grim, bleak and ghastly.

And yet, knowing the real score, I continue to enjoy life. Sadly, I’ll croak before long. Maybe I’ll be reincarnated. I won’t ask to come back as a bug. But who knows? Maybe there’s bugs who love being bugs. Like the brothers, say.

Did you know A cockroach can run three miles an hour? That’s a human’s walking speed. A cockroach can live up to two weeks without a head. They eventually die of thirst or starvation. This means they don’t need to use their heads for actual thinking. Which is similar to the way Maga Human Beings operate.

“The Boulevard is not that bad”

I’m quoting a line from the Elton John song. Tiny Dancer. That’s a song about a free spirit. I’ve never been a free spirit and I don’t pretend to be. I’m not so naïve. Nobody is completely free. People depend on you; you depend on others. Bills and Obligations restrict your freedom. I’m more free than most people I know. Less free than others…like this dude:

This is just about as free as you can get…next to being dead.

The “Jesus Freaks out on the street” as described in Tiny Dancer do not congregate on my patch of the Boulevard. Where I park It’s mostly drive-through traffic, bikers speeding along, a dog walker or two, the occasional jogger. Almost nobody hangs out on my piece of the street. We do have this afore mentioned tramp buried in his purple sleeping bag. He’s a regular camper. Sleeps right there on the blacktopped path. You wanna walk by you gotta skirt the hedge. Occasionally he wakes up screaming, like he did to a cop recently. I felt sorry for the cop. We got another, better equipped, bum. He sleeps on the covered bus bench on the corner of Bridgeway boulevard and Nevada street.

Here’s his pad. I tried to snap him last time he was here. He’s wise to me, I think. I was raising my camera for a quick shot, and he wagged his finger…as if to say, “sorry pal. I aint yer specimen.” As you can see from this pic, a sturdy roof and stone walls brace his slumber. Long as the wind is north/westerly he’ll stay dry in a rain storm. He’s even got a pair of lights up in the corner there….

Could use a sweep maybe. Tidy it up a bit. Otherwise, that bench don’t look too uncomfortable…that’s to say, if you compare it to the blacktopped path the purple sleeping bag dude sleeps on. That dude’s like a metallic Johnny Appleseed…plus he’s insane. This dude is very neat and orderly. His cloths and scarves folded at his feet. Sleeping bag tucked neatly onto the bench. His bicycle parked smartly beside his head. Head propped on his pillow. He lies on his bench and reads his bird book. Sometimes he gazes out at the street, like he’s enjoying the view from his private condo. He’s not screaming. He’s grooving. He’s like me. Not insane. Just an Old Fart. Copping a snooze. He’s got the bench mostly to himself. Cuz, you see, most people around here have cars. They don’t need to ride the bus. Even the Mexicans drive cars. Once in a while somebody’ll show up for the bus, notice the Old Fart, and move over to the sidewalk, so as to not invade his personal space. Most nice people realize this is his bus bench. Why? Cuz he’s sleeping on it! You wanna give him trouble? You wanna harass the poor bastard? Show’s you what you’re made of.

So yeah, the boulevard is not that bad.

Friday 8 May 2025 around 8:30 a.m.

I’m sitting here at the office, typing this post. I’ve been piddling around with this thing for a couple days. WTF is wrong with me? I need to do something. Do what? I got nothing to do. I’m old. I mean, I’m done trying to be somebody. I got over that, thank god. Now I’m just getting by, best I can. The boulevard is not so bad. I got a rolling roof over my head, a nice soft cot under me. I got boat money stuffed in my coffee can. Before long I’ll find that boat. What do I got I need to worry about?

Yeah, but he’s all the way over there in Washington, raising hell. What’s he gonna do to me? I’m just an Old Fart living around the corner from another Old Dude sleeps on a bus bench. What the hell can he do to me? Ship me off to a Gulag? Naw, I’m just a small fry. I’m no threat. I’m not pouring across the border, raping babies, fleeing insane asylums, murdering U.S.A. citizens. Whoa! Wait a minute. I am a citizen! I forgot all about that. This is my country! Okay, so yeah, so maybe I gotta worry about him fucking up the economy. Which means I’ll be paying two dollars for the can of black beans used to cost me a dollar. I’ll be paying more for gas but I drive a prius…so I’m good with the mileage. I guess he could start a war and I’ll end up a blast shadow against the stone wall of the bus bench. Me and the bird book dude. Well, what’s the point of mulling over the possibilities.

Bridgeway boulevard aint that bad!

It aint. It really aint. So there you go, Rel. I’m not griping. I’m not complaining about how fucked up everything is. I’m not depressed. Tonight I’ll go over and hang with Joan, my Trumpy girlfriend. We get along pretty good, I guess. Been together for a while. No secrets in our relationship. Kinda boring but no secrets. Yes, it could be a whole lot worse. It could be like this e-mail posting I got this morning from REDDIT. (I joined the damned site thinking I’d use it to promote my blog, only to find I’m too stupid to figure out how the social media platform works) What I’ve gained from my efforts by joining REDDIT is a daily offering of Marital Issue Posts, which I never requested, and wherein I’m invited to offer my comments, which I never do.

Husband of 15 years has been cheating with men. I’m completely lost and shocked.

Married 15 years, always the couple our friends and family look up to, can make it through anything(lost home to hurricane, lots of custody issues with his ex wife, medical problems) we’ve always been best friends and fought side by side. Our sex life did fall to the wayside in recent years due to a lot of conflict with his daughter in the home. She was a handful to say the least. About a month before her 18th birthday and her moving out he began frequenting an adult theatre and has, since then been going anywhere from twice a month to twice a week and engaging in various forms of sex with men(mostly through glory holes). He claims he might have questioned being bi-curious but says he is straight and mostly it was a quick release where he wasn’t getting it at home. (He wasn’t putting in effort at home which would cause me pain so he wasn’t getting it much) I immediately made sure we both got tested and will retest as guy/girl either way this was risky sex even though he claims protection was used. I am in complete shock. I don’t want to lose everything we have built together, he is my best friend but I also can’t help but feel like a jacka__ for even entertaining this marriage not because of the actions but the deceit. Through initial talks he is shocked that I have sexual fantasies and says he always just assumed I was vanilla. We are in counseling but I want us to at least be in separate bedrooms for now while I try and recover. Has anyone survived this marriage-wise or am I a complete Moran for still loving this man?

What can I say to this woman to bring her solace? Go live on a bus bench? Camp in your car? THE BOULEVARD IS NOT THAT BAD!!!

Find another husband? Maybe. Or you could just put up with the guy. You say he’s your best friend. I mean, I guess there’s worse habits than visiting glory holes. No? Well…I don’t know. Sometimes you gotta just pitch caution to the winds, right?