The Bostonian Abroad

Was listening to songs of old age and loss and realized something, perhaps deep, perhaps obvious. Probably both, which is usually the case: We are meant to lose. Loss is our refusal to accept that nothing is ours, not even our lives. We lose everything in the end. If we realize and accept that we actually don't have anything anyway, maybe that can free us from the fear of losing. Maybe, knowing that we are going to lose everything will make us savor it more, enjoy it that much more. And maybe it will help us to let go of things when the time comes. Think of all the pain that has come from not wanting to lose something. The fear involved at the thought of loss, followed by the pain of having it gone, and then the interminable pain of regret and that emptiness we just cannot fill. Why not just let it go and move on to the next thing. Enjoy each thing. Get nourishment from it like you do food, and then let it pass on to wherever it is going next. Ahh, but we like things too much. ...

I have an evil twin. He comes out and takes over my body and mind when I am on 30 milligrams for two days in a row. Yesterday was one of those days. Today is a 60 day, so I can really see the sharp contrast between the two personalities I currently exhibit. What is it like to suffer from Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD)? (And when I say "suffer," I mean that EVERYONE around me suffers as well.) When the "real" me, the undrugged me, comes to the fore and takes the wheel, everything is different. It is not that any stimulus triggers the anger or rage, it is that the anger or rage is simply stuck in the "on" position. I could be in a stimulus-free environment, with the perfect air temperature, food, drink, and comfort, and I would still be borderline furious, wanting to destroy the entire universe. Yesterday, all day, I was raving, passionate about the littlest thing, adamant about it all, and wanting to argue with every detail, every minute fabric...

This is my second tattoo. People say that once you get your first tattoo, you get addicted and want more and more. This is not the case with me. I have always wanted more than one, and I think this time in my life is where my tattoo getting shall begin. My rationale is that I am old enough now where I know the difference between whim and serious desire. I also know the ramifications of permanent alteration to the body. Further, my skin has been damaged by life: precancerous moles removed, leaving scars, sun damage, pock marks from acne, wrinkles, stretch marks from long-disappeared muscles, and just plain old age-wrinkled skin. Why not choose my damage? And what of how I will look when I am 80? Won't my tattoos look stupid when I am 80? Well, assuming I even live that long, and it ain't looking so good from the looks at my genetic inheritance, IF I make it to 80, my skin will be so fucked up that a tattoo will only blend in to the fucked-upedness, and it will probably make ...

This is the tattoo I got for my broken, stupid leg. It is in Ogham and in Irish and says I will not take shit from evil. Another tattoo is coming. It is the result of a saga of near quest-like proportions. You see, I have had to learn the hard way just how fucked up the tattoo profession really is. There are really no standards as to who can set up shop or what a real tattoo artist actually is. Here are some of the bullshit experiences I have had in just the last three months of trying to get a fucking tattoo. You're supposed to get a personal recommendation, so I did. It didn't pay off. I went to Warlock's because a friend of mine said she liked it. That was 20 years ago. Cut to me, standing in front of the tattoo dude at Warlock's. He is looking at me with a kind of smirk. It says, who the fuck is this middle-aged nerd, coming in here to get a tramp stamp or some shit. He looked entirely disinterested and like I was wasting his precious time as a cool tattoo d...

Not that anyone cares one iota, but there are some things I am against, and today, I am of a mind to write it down. First off, I am against organized religion. I know that nothing will ever change in my lifetime, but I believe organized belief systems and the hierarchical structures they create and maintain are detrimental to human society and the planet as a whole. Organized religion is based upon a philosophy propounded by an individual, like Jesus, Mohamed, Moses, or Buddha, and then others build schema on top of it. Over the years, and even millennia, these organizations force rules and interpretations on people, very often in a detrimental way. The original person who started this religion may or may not have been a product of his or her time and gender, and so we can see the flaws in the thinking as times change and peoples evolve. In the end, we find these organized religions and their followers splitting up into different sects, and they fight each other. Then, as secular so...

After many years of thinking about getting a tattoo and after many ideas coming and going, I finally made the leap and got a tattoo. Originally, I wanted a Red Sox tattoo, until my wife at the time pointed out that it would be akin to getting a Coke tattoo. So that idea was out. I also wanted a Harley tattoo, but it would have been even more like Coke, so that was out. I thought about getting a combination tattoo that had elements of different things I love, but that fizzled. Then came my broken leg and the scars that came with it. I figured that I could get a tattoo on my leg since it was already messed up. So I thought and thought about what to put. . . And then I got the idea to get a heritage tattoo. So my tatto is a combination of ideas: 1. Tribute to my Irish heritage. 2. Tribute to my Father. 3. Interpretation of my name. 4. Superstition. 5. Reminiscent of my scarring. 6. Reminder of my accident and fragility. 7. Evocative of my profession (i.e., linguistics becau...

My sister says that my father's spirit regularly does things to let her know he is there. He turns on the TV, changes the channels, and even starts the washing machine. My sister Sue apparently also experienced a sink suddenly coming on. I have seen peripheral things, but nothing directly. The night before my Dad died, I saw the angel in the room. It appeared to my right and when I turned to see who had entered, it was gone. It was pretty startling. My Dad died the next day. So I often wonder why my TV has not acted weird or why my washing machine doesn't come on by itself. I think maybe he shoved me off my motorcycle in 2010. I have no real proof, but I feel like he did. So why nothing else at my house??? Perhaps it is because I am anti bully and I see a ghost in my house as a kind of bully. If a ghost were manipulating things in my house, I would go ballistic. I hate bullies. And ghosts are bullies to me. Even in dreams, if I see a ghost, I immediately attack it, punc...