36. Loosely


Blogrades, what to say? I have a few loose ends out there, and I am very comfortable with loose ends. Sorry for you if you are not. What do you do with Persian rugs and their tassled ends? Or split ends?  Leave them alone if you are on the White House tour. “Loosey goosey” is what uptight controllers call relaxed folks, as if being relaxed will end Western civilization and release the Kracken. What’s wrong with being loosely together if your shoes stay on? Life is not a constant crisis. A crisis has to be a sudden diversion from the norm. Crisis will slice your cheesey life like tight piano wire and serve you on chipped china in a dumpster. Why live there? Crawl out and chill with me.

My peer supervision group members are all retiring or moving this year. I’ve been a part of this group of men for eight years. They have been a wonderful resource professionally and a collective joy to know personally. Sadly, I don’t expect to see the likes of them again in one room. Altogether they represented over 100 years of experience in the mental health field, including my demon experiences. What can you say except “I am so grateful for being in your presence, for your acceptance, your endorsement and encouragement, your kind wisdom.” What a crater will be left by their absence. Not exactly the Rapture experience, but I am being left behind due to my relative youth. May God bless you, Guys. Now, I am the sole cat herder left on the lonesome prairie, or so it seems. Maybe I could put an ad in a professional journal for five mental health catboys to chat around a collegial campfire monthly. I wonder who would respond…”Hi, I’m Ted. I saw  your ad for a catboy. I’m looking for post-midlife monthly catharses. Here’s my resume and my social requirements. Um, kind of shabby place you have. We’ll have to spruce things up if I’m gonna stay.”

” Yo, name’s Vinny. I usta drive a cab in Manhattan. That’s why my left arm is tan and my right one always grips a wheel that ain’t there no more. I’m looking for some meanin and poypose. I had enough of getting directions if you capiche. Nice couch. What’s with Ted?”

“Hi, Al, well, Albert. My mother named me after Albert Einstein. That  was before my father left us. He was trapped in a refrigerated ship that transported pork products to India. And when the Jasper, that was the name of the ship, arrived in Delhi, my father fell out stiff as a board. He quickly thawed out and married a local girl, but we never heard from him again. I’m not bitter, but I am looking for male mentorship that won’t leave me. And I can’t bear air conditioning. Hi Vinny, Ted.”

Loosely connected but comfortable like a classic pair of leather sandals. Who needs tightly crafted seams if you have three or four good connections? Flex, my man. Choose a loose noose or you’ll choke your goose.

Today’s coffee nation summit was a loose connection of men who floated in and out of the shop around 8:30 and later. It’s Thursday, an anchor in my week that connects me to some neat guys who have time and a desire to connect. Tasha was working the bar this morning and outed me about this blog. “It’s just what I expected”, she said, which is not exactly a compliment. “He talks a lot…like that.” I accept the feedback, though I am not sure that Tasha gets me. I am a lot cooler than she thinks. Meanwhile Krista, the former Queen of the coffee shop, sat behind the male only bastion of banality and corrected papers from her class on drug abuse. DJ commented that she should not be teaching middle schoolers how to abuse drugs after she said she taught on drug abuse. Again, there are very loose ties from one thing to another. Not exactly stream of consciousness; no, here in Franklin County it’s a crik of consciousness.

This was Mitch’s first official summit as a participant. He used to sling coffee, but he quit so that he could tour with a rock band for two months. (Guitar player) Now he’s back and seeking divine guidance. He is toying with the idea of going into formal ministry, which is great since he already has the soft heart for others. His heart was also carmelized by a certain young lady over the past couple of years. This is a slow process of cooking something in oil over a medium flame until it changes into a sticky, cooked down taffy substance which can be stretched like a circus tent. Pastors have at least one class in skin and heart stretching before they are released for active duty.

Lance the riddler showed up without his phone riddle app. Tim the silver back had to go to a meeting of all things. I am considering putting him on suspension because he has a full time job. As the original charter member of the Coffee Summit Nation, I find it hard to accept his success in the work world as anything but failure in the Summit Nation. Fortunately the Egginator was present and supportive of the mission. He is poised like a ruffled potato chip, ready to dip into the mix at any given moment. If he knew any martial arts or packed a gun, he could handle security for the Summit. Until then we will have to limp by with security provided by DJ, former Blackwater Security Service Dude who goes to the doctor a lot since retiring from that organization. He once ran cover for Angelina Jolie and Hillary Clinton in Iraq, so he says. Further, he claims that Angelina needed one limo for her body and another for her famous pouty lips. That is lip service. Now Hillary was easier to transport, having been a First Lady and all. Makes me wonder if celebrities drop names of common dullards like us in their blogs. Not really.

So, it is all loosely connected. And to unloosen any part of it would tie things in knots.

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