My music sustains me, and of course, the writing is my best possible outlet. Sometimes, the days are so long & dragged out, tho. I find myself hauling my shadow behind me, trying to wring it out when I’ve no recall of walking in any waters.

When I look down, I might be dragging myself by my scruff to another path…

I am doing a lot of reminiscing. I’m finding my way through a life review (Revue?) – memories surface & I’m not even sure what time zone they’re in – let alone any location. Or the order in which I lived them.

I am able to see that being sad or picking on myself for the state of the world is one which I no longer choose to energize with attention. Don’t care what you say, it’s not all my fault.

But it is also that my brain is letting go of a certain discipline it had, shifting tracks you might say. This seems to involve much spitting on hands & pulling levers. I cannot help but know it is true for me that I needed to keep my thinking in a more reactive mode when working – staying responsive if not predictive. I am no longer capable of maintaining that life-mode for extended periods.

I can feel lights shutting off – like in old movies when the character looks over a shoulder & bids an entire life goodbye, shutting the door. If I had to take over an office, I’d need to hit the fuse box & do some fiddling.

I’m not saying anything other than that, for me, where I am is still unusual. I look out at the panorama of 60 years of employment & find it a matter of quantum un-entangling!

. I needed to be able to think in certain ways when working, but now I’m more playing tag in there with one memory or sharing sparking a time that exactly happened to me, then playing a kind of “fetch” to get back the memory.

Just when I think, “it’s not happening here” more evidence appears “I” am overtaken by more than circumstantial evidence that my disciplines are shifting. What did I accomplish that was for me & not just for the corporation? There is no balance I can see. I lived a purported life.

The paradigm has shifted into Retirement, a brand new place where I need to pay attention but am feeling a bit spacey/removed from right now. My clock has just hit the midnight reset here & I’m reactive, y’know?  My brain is rewiring for this life-time. 

I attribute this to the fact that so much of what I hear I’ve heard before & somewhere along the way I just stopped listening. Being told some stories causes a quantum resonance which brings the other 79 times I heard this story – in company or with this individual – front & center, happening on 79 other screens in realtime.

I guess getting older is complicated. 

I have less time for “political partying” as it should be known. I’m wanting to deal with my own allotment of wizards & wonders & words. Do I make amends? Amens? Move on?

Guess what? The memories skid on in, flashing the corners of my eyes & piling up in no particular order.

Impolite Society has already tossed me into the recycle bin…

I’m going to eat potato chips for dinner.