This Blog

I am not seeing the point of this blog any more. When I started it, I was unemployed and starting off on a road trip.  It has spanned a lot of my life. But now I am employed and not on a road trip and I am fucking bored out of my mind. And riddled with angst and ennui.

Now I blog (aka write) about books I read, movies I see, random stuff. It has no point. Who cares, really? 

This is a "heads up." I will continue to write here but I can't tell you how often or about what.  When I read a good book or see a good movie or eat a good meal or have a good conversation, I might write about it. I might not.

This Friday there was a dedication at Westmoor High School in Daly City for some picnic benches. They, and the area in which they are situated, were dedicated to my friend Martha who was killed two years ago. She taught at Westmoor and was the Vice Principal there for more than 20 years before she went on to work at the Superintendent's Office.  It was a lovely ceremony, thanks to her good friend Emily. People spoke, some students sang, there was a nice crowd of teachers and students gathered for it.

It made me cry, again, for the loss of Martha. It makes me cry right now. Why do some people get killed and some people get to live on and on, past their expiration date? (Rhetorical question, no answer required.)  Grief just goes on and on.  Ask my brother Steve about that.  Ask anyone who has lost a friend, lover, sister, brother, child.  Grief has no expiration date. It simply flows, like water, on and on. Into the blue again. "Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down."

Move on. Yes. Moving on. However, the level of impatience I feel about everything makes it, simultaneously, impossible to move on and imperative that I move on. But the level of angst (for lack of a better word) that I feel about everything right now holds me hostage. And that list, the "everything" seems too daunting to discuss right now.

I have nothing else to say right now.