Archive for the ‘couch’ Category

I forgot my pen today. Good for the casual reader of my errors and faults, bad for my new way of writing. Actually it’s an archaic way of writing. Pen to paper.
Here is this blogger world, my thumbs get jumbled and they fumble all over this tiny space. I am not sure if a larger device will help this process. I will, though, test this theory in May when I upgrade my device. I always wanted a larger device. I imagine it would be more pleasurable for all.

Regardless of the size of my device, I have taken to pen and paper for my ‘great’ story. I tend to stare more at this device as if an idea can be binged. Poor Microsoft. Bingged? Just Bing? If nothing else Google is as synonymous to searching as Band Aids are to boo boos.

And I tend to listen others dilemmas and disasters. This seemingly fine young boy came out of the unicorn princes office and I find him a runner. He likes to run away. Not far. Down the street or behind a tree or under a car. Not that unsafe, but pretentiously dangerous I some respects I would gather.

This is my first time to Mr Johns on a Monday. Jack and I changed days so as to get an earlier time slot. Although, it is only a half hour earlier, I am sure I can find some use of it. At the moment, I can think of nothing. I really wasn’t even sure if I wanted to change. Change is not always good and it really disrupts my need for no change in my life.
There is a lot of change going on my life at the moment. Alas, to bore you is to bore me. But my gym membership expires in two weeks and I haven’t the money to renew.
First world problems. I need more of them.

See, I lost myself and to ha k read what I have written involves me possibly hitting the wrong thing and editing unexpectedly.

This book will happen and I think it will be good. I need it. You may not. You may just want a cookie. That’s sound good to me too.


I don’t think I have any followers and that’s okay. I realize that my poor editing abilities are not only lacking, but entirely non existent. My spelling isn’t atrocious, although auto-spell sometimes just doesn’t know me at all.
Being that a very good portion of these entries are written by lieu of thumb, not too mention a very small screen. How a writer can live with an iPhone 4 I will never know. I need the big screen of the i5.
What I really need is to go back to pen and paper. That’ll teach me a thing or two. Maybe it is writing on this tiny window that makes my eyes oh so sleepy. Hmm I am onto something.

When I leave Mr John’s office and the unicorn princess’ looney tunes television show, I should go home and edit. Corrections would so easy. I haven’t even been to my WordPress site in months. Life surrounds me.

Ok, the unicorn princess is watching a show. I can not see this show. I can only hear the voices and the sound effects. One thing I. Life that I am good at is recognizing specific sounds or voices and recollecting where I first hear them. I know. I know. Why haven’t I cashed in on this amazing talent? I ask myself that almost every day.
Point is is that she has watched this episode before. It wasn’t too long ago either. I specifically remember it annoying me then too. Some sort of western themed action bonanza. Lots of gun play. Not lots of dialogue. It sounds old. It also sounds like a canned script.
It’s way too distracting. How can a man write about wanting to write with all these distractions? It’s a good thing I want to be. A professional.

I need to edit. Grasp what I have by the ears and shake it straight. Get a solid paragraph. A fantastic sentence. A wordy chapter.
Something. And then the eyes become slits

The book is not going well. Actually ‘it’ is fine. The writer is very slack. All these great thought mulling now drowning never to be seen.
Fresh ideas will come and the outline is actually there. I just have to hop to it. The holidays have given me another excuse.
Running has given me an even better excuse. Alas I pulled an unknown muscle trying to prove things to myself. I ran the annual Turkey Trot here in town. The cold morning blanketed with an even colder wind made for a delightful morning for one thousand or so runners, spectators and their dogs.
This was my first race since the last race but only my first trot of the turkey.
I was excited but not as prepared as the last one. I did not miss one training day on my schedule for the 10k. Ah, this was but a mere 5k. Missing a day or so would effect this top notch guy. Besides I was very busy at work and being I won’t cut out my children time, I had to sacrifice some sweat.
What I didn’t think would happen did. There were thirty five mid lifers raring to go. All blaring frost from their nostrils like brazen bulls to red. The compression socks made me weak to my stomach.
These guys were serious.
Three, two, one and pa-chow! They were off. I was off. I was trying to fiddle with my iPod and I lost a good start.
I started booking. I knew I was running faster than I ever had. Pushing myself to a limit I wasn’t really confident with yet. This pace couldn’t hold out too long. Maybe it could but something in me was disagreeing big time.
My breathing was a little off. The cold cold air always has something to do with that. I tried to steady it while younglings passed me from new directions. Mid lifers were passing me. Danged if I could figure this out. Everything I have read told me to pace myself. Pace, I did.

I only ended up passing a few people but never caught up to the beginning of the pack.

My eyes have grown heavy. This couch calls me.

Should Be

Posted: November 20, 2012 in Autism, couch, doctor, fault, home, mr john, soul, truth

I should be writing my book, but the unicorn princess is feeling lively. From high atop her perch comes the swinging strong sounds of what I am not sure. This genre is rock. It sure is not offensive by any stretch. It could be classified as teen Disney. Maybe?
I thought it may be Christian rock, but I hear no thous. It may very well be, I been wrong one time before.
What I do know is that it is not good writing music. Things with beats and hooks and frenzied guitar solos have no place in this writers world. Don’t get me wrong, I adore a good old fashioned head banging. Now though, whilst I pen my finest, I prefer jazz or classical or even nature sounds. The mind should be not distracted but enveloped within one’s surroundings.
The book I should be working on is not lost. That is a good thing. I have more done than when I first started. That is for sure. I have nothing but excuses right not. Most of it is my surroundings. Kids, pets, wives and possibly one bigger: the television. That thing truly is the devil. And she loves it.
And it is always on. And it makes you duller. And it lures.

I have quit do many things. It just makes me want to go back.

I really have to remember my headphones when I come here. I can tune out the unicorn princess’ strange rock and roll. She even knows the words. The unicorn princess has sung! I guess this is a cd. May e I could have figured that out if I paid more attention. She truly haunts me. She will be a major player I my book. That book that sits in space.

Yes headphones next week.

It’s Always My Fault

Posted: November 14, 2012 in couch, fault, home, Uncategorized

I keep forgetting that it always my fault. I need to hold a better check on that one. I always forget.

My son forgot his monologue. It lay somewhere in the hall of the church. When he got I the car, I asked. He told me what I needed to hear to put the car In Drive and head across town.
So I head a moderately more than average speed, not zooming but very quickly across town. This theatre is is I. The middle of downtown. A few lefts and rights. A bump or two over railroad tracks and there the theatre looms. It’s in a Masonic temple. Now that’s another blog waiting to happen.

In order to pick up this thespian of a son, I first had to prepare the other son for the evening. Feed and bath the boy. Homework and dog walk. Dishes done and dried and put up. Perfect timing. Five minutes to the church, ten minutes to the theatre and waa laa! Fifteen minutes to spare. By my clock, that is truly right on time.

All parked and settled, the boy went in. I facebooked a picture letting my adoring friends and fans know that I was outside the theatre. I even took a picture. As the immortal memory was about to upload, a frantic boy came running to my truck.
Chapstick! Does the boy need Chapstick? A swallow of water to loosen the vocal chords up a notch? Why no, he has done and gone lost his monologue.

The harps begin to play. The flash back scene begins in slow motion.
“Do you have everything?” Say it with a mouth full of marbles to simulate slow motion flash back.

A bottle full of rage, a bummed out kid and a bedtime quickly approaching, I zoomed towards the church.
Call your mother, I said. Don’t stop until she picks up.
I try it myself but I don’t really care to drive and talk. I don’t really care to use the phone much at all. If I call, I have a reason. That’s one of my faults also. My communication is terrible. I did stop trying. I admit it. Every once I. Awhile I forget and just start talk about anything, then I remember why I stopped this communication thing. It usually takes less than a minute or two before I’ve said something that reminds her of something that I did at one time and that cross referenced with another thing I might or might not have said at a certain date. The. I forget what the hell I was talking about. Someone storms off into the bedroom and sit with a stupid look on my face. So you don’t want a baked potato for dinner then.

Zooming casually as one can do in a chur h parking lot, she stood with said monologue in hand. Wanting me to pull into the side driveway instead of just coming over quickly to the car. A few words of encouragement to the boy and reassuring him that it wasn’t his fault, I receive the eye of stink.
“You were the minutes late!”
A mental FU because I actually care about what crosses the children’s ears, I begin the zooming procedures.
“See buddy, it wash fault all along. Now lets get you back to the theatre. You’ll only be fifteen minutes late. Use all this energy and put it into your performance.”

That’s all I really said. As much as I try, I can’t communicate well with my son either. Funny thing is that we have so much in common. I think there’s something in the way.
It’s not me. But it’s my fault.

One Week From Last

Posted: November 13, 2012 in couch, political, soul, truth, truth

I have fully committed to becoming a normal political citizen. I have deleted every ‘extremist’ group from Facebook, twitter and Google+. Mind you, I read posts and blogs and horrors from both sides of the fence, so, I truly believed I was we’ll informed on issues. Hence, that wasn’t enough for this experiment in my new social atmosphere.
Funny thing, my posts became a lot more dull. I almost posted a cute picture of a kitten that said, ‘Do the dumb things I gotta do’. I held back and unliked another site that told me to heed the failures of this administration.
Hey buddy, I no longer heed. I tune out and only listen to the top of the hour headlines like normal people.
I haven’t really been a television watcher. I have some shows that I enjoy and once in awhile I will watch the news. I’ll say that so e news shows have shown to be angrier than others. This always and still baffles me. Just report the facts and report what is important. I guess we all have our own agendas.

I could name names and possibly might one day. That’ll sure show them! I am familiar with most hosts on television bit as I stated before, I don’t watch much. Most of my information comes from the Goreian invention, the information superhighway. Admittedly, I spend quite a bunch of time online. A lot of wasted time, too.
I am trying to create other habits. I am actually succeeding in most areas I put my attentions too.

I also listen plenty. I am or was a talk show junkie on the radio. If someone was talking, I was a listening. My decision on this matter is to leave NPR on the dial at all times. That is where I will get my audible news and information from. Some spiffy classical tunes too.
When they are having the show tunes hour, I always have an audio book holstered. I am ready to face the next year like a normal citizen.

One note because this transition is very difficult for me. I did discuss politics today with someone and my blood began to coincide with global warming. Then while listening to NPR news, I bit my lip while they focus incredulously on something that is clearly a cover up story. I mean really, all of a sudden all these damning facts come out against a general when….

Breath and enjoy being a normal citizen. Life is so much more enjoyable.

Election Day my heart was broken. Everything I believed was crumpled and stamped upon. My values and morals were laughed at. Fingers were pointing at me. All the studying I had done. All the weighing of right and wrong or good and evil.
Everything crashed and burned.

I decided the morning after that I had to step back and look at the world a little differently. It could very well be that I am wrong. At this moment as I wrote this I seriously doubt that I am wrong. Maybe that is my problem. Maybe what we grew up believing was right all along.

Ah what are the rights and what are the wrongs? I guess it’s all in what you read or watch. Personally I felt it necessary to read and watch many different points of view. From
Radio talk shows to web sites to news outlets. I partook in all of it. I felt the truth was masqueraded on all levels. I felt that I had a decent grasp at revealing the truth. The truth always finds a way.
Maybe, just maybe I have been looking at the world the wrong way.

Starting today and along with all the other things I need to accomplish, I will begin anew. I hereby shall cut myself off from politics. I will listen to music on the radio or podcasts. Just not political ones. Actually I don’t listen to political podcasts. Just some to learn new things.
I will
Only watch a few select tv shows. Ah, which ones you might ask. Superheroes and zombies and gunslingers. That should be food.
The Internet will be the hard one. I follow all the news sources. Hmmm maybe just general sites. BBC and the like. I will delete all political sites and followers.
I fight with myself because one never feels that it is them that is doing the wrong. To prove to no one but
myself, I shall make it so.

From this day forward I shall only talk about the weather!
In one years time, I shall revisit this page and reflect. Although I will be doing a lot more writing, so stay tuned.

Will I be a different man? I have transformed myself so much in the past few years. I thought I had found the truth.

Mork from Ork

Posted: October 23, 2012 in Autism, couch, doctor, Faction, mr john, Young

I had an idea presented to me. Write a book in a month. A whole book. Just pump it out. Edit later. I discovered it through Stumble.
Stumble is a web site in which one inputs certain likes and it randomly chooses places to go. I am learning new things everyday with the help of this site. That is if I remember to use. Sometimes I have other things on my mind. Things like bills. Oh, and my children.
So I found this site that holds a yearly book writing month. I am not really sure about how to go about it. I think the instructions are way to simple. I know that you are not supposed to start until November first. I have ideas racing.

My ideas are my worst enemy. They wind up like Evel Knevil and then fall as soon as they are let go.
I don’t know how I’ll attempt this. My thumbs aren’t fast enough. I can barely get a page out and to use correct punctuation will be a nightmare.
What about conversations? I don’t think writing a book on the iPhone is a great idea. This blog is fine. I get a hit on it every month or so. Ah well.

I accomplished a goal and I am excited. It is probably why I am not that focused to day. I feel like Mork from Ork. My mind zooms. My body feels great.
Ran a race. Now I want to write a book. You know it’s going to be about the couch. There’s actually a hottie sitting on my couch at the moment. If I fall asleep in this chair I have a feeling I will rip one. I am usually alone in this room. Save for the occasional graces of Ann.
The big salad I ate before I came here is beginning to work some magic. Oh we’ll maybe she has brothers.
I am nearing the point where I just want to walk into a room and just rip a big one. Just the thought sends me into a mental giggle. I hope the hottie does t look up.
Farts make me laugh.
Forever twelve. There was a time when I was fifteen or sixteen. Oh there were lots of times back then. Every moment was an incredible memory. Wish I could remember them all. I’d have a book
It was me and mike. I think Ken was there. We were sitting at one of the many tables in our high schools library. Most of the were four person tables. A few we’re larger. We were at a four chaired table. I recall it being near the card catalog. We sat there together talking about cars. Well, ken and mike were probably talking about cars and I was probably wondering how they knew all this stuff about them. My memory problem didn’t just begin with my problems.

I was a funny guy.

Loo loud grumble. I wonder if she heard it. She looks bored. A nice loud fart would send at least one of us I to clinically insane laughter.

That’s pretty what happened in the library that day. One speaks I. Whispers in the library. Quiet as a mouse.
I slowly lifted a cheek of my butt as to not draw any attention. With controlled farting you must pinch and release in an ultra controlled method. We have rehearsed this and have gotten away with unnoticed releases.
Lifting my butt cheek with not the years of experience I have acquired now, I let go.
I would that my cheek did. Of have the right lift. I certainly didn’t account for the hard solid wooden chair that I sat upon. It took hold of that little toot. A little toot anywhere else in the world. A little toot in a quiet library sitting on a heavy wooden chair boomed and echoed through the chamber. I swear it bounced off walls. It was the loudest thing I had ever heard.
I am laughing as I wrote this. Imagine Ken and Mike. I could never face that library again.

Letter to School

Posted: October 16, 2012 in Autism, couch, doctor, Homework, mr john, Non-Fiction

I sent a letter to Jacks school. Sometimes new people need to be reminded that autism does not come with an instruction manual. You can hand out one sheet of people with a guideline.

Will change the way that you perceive normal.

Sometimes we all test our limits. Sometimes we will push a little further to get different results. Sometimes we will be amazed by our own frustrations that none of it worked.
Thus this is so with jack.
He is in a new phase of learning, but he is not going into the abyss alone.

He doesn’t like school. He doesn’t like homework. He likes power rangers. He doesn’t like food. He likes pizza. Well, pizza is a food.
Actually food is a whole subject in my family. It is sometime hard when the guide won’t follow his own course. Whatever that means.

I am not really getting this point across. I don’t free form well when it comes to autism. I need to practice the discussion. It has to be a part of the discussion.
It is what brought me to where I am. I sometimes wonder if I would ever have gotten to this place if it weren’t for my son. What if he were a sports loving kid? Would I still be hiding a flask on the ball field? Telling the kids to take five. Daddy needs a smoke break.
Would I have more children? I’d say it is nothing to ponder because I am not there. The road took me here. I am a better man. A poor man but a better man.
I can run fourteen miles without stopping. The only reason I stop is to face the rest of the day with my family.
I can walk up one hundred and fifty flights of steps on the machine at the gym. I am a machine.
And no.
None of it is easy.

October Nine

Posted: October 9, 2012 in Autism, couch, doctor, mr john, Non-Fiction, Young

I really need to work on my tags. I really just need to focus on one task at a time. Just to be able to work on one writing project for hours a day. Oh the joy! Then to scatter around the neighborhood and diddle with blogs.

What the hell is she watching? Apparently music was too good for her. Now she has brought a television into her office space.
I can hear the cheesy gun shots. There are entry of them so I know it is an older show. A western? I hear no voices. A little crescendo hear and there. Dramatic music is a wonderful thing.
I wonder if this is on a DVD or VCR tape? She is giggling and grunting to whAt I am sure is exhilirating action. I highly doubt that there is cable running through these building. I could be wrong. It has happened once or twice in my life.

Maybe she’s watching the Apple Dumpling Gang. Maybe she is just a further test in my life to see how much I can take. I am at my limit with a bunch of things.

I just had my own dramatic pause right there. I hold back writing certain feelings. I do tell the truth in my tales. Is leaving out parts of my life lying? I know that it is to myself. I don’t know about a reader. So far I have had two. It s more than one.
My son found a shiny nickel at school last week. He found it in the gym. I bet my boy was so happy. It was his lucky day! His EC teacher told him that he must turn that into the gym teacher. If he didn’t, it would be like stealing. Like stealing? Like lying? Like doing wrong? It didn’t go we’ll for either of them. She witnessed a meltdown of an autistic boy. I do believe she should have known better. At least to be aware that negative reactions to a seemingly positive situation is going to have repercussions.

Ok this receptionist lady, whom shall from this point be called Ann. One, because that is her name and two, receptionist is a lot to type out with my thumbs. Ok, at first I was thinking that she was enjoying this spaghetti western a little too much. There were inappropriate grunts and groans coming through the Venetian blind wall that separates us. Then I heard it. The snots. The blowing of the nose. Dear Ann has a cold. I for one do not have one, nor do I believe I shall get one. Ann is making talk to herself now.

My eyes are closing. I had a full day. Work. The gym. Pick up my son from school. Take home to a doctor appointment Bring him to the pharmacy to get some meds for my other son and his infected big toe. Go home and shove down a salad. Spinach I must say is quite delicious. Popeye was right! Then finally, retake my son to another doctor appointment and my appointment with the couch. Of which I barely had a session with
And I was just told I left my lights on in my truck.