Author
https://williamlobb.com/2016/07/whereupon-i-edit-out-my-editor/#more-435
https://williamlobb.com/2016/07/snake-oil-step-right-up-or-how-do-we-get-published-really/#more-444
https://williamlobb.com/2016/08/self-publishing-becomes-self-loathing/#more-465
https://williamlobb.com/2016/08/our-hero-meets-his-match/#more-486
https://williamlobb.com/2016/08/publish-button-completesireeeeens/#more-492
He turned and looked at me and said, “These machines, this equipment was built by a good man, good men who went to work at seven in the morning every day and brought their sandwiches in bags and on weekends they played baseball and drank beer and they took their families on picnics on Sundays. When they died people went to their funerals and genuinely wept because men like this would be missed in a community, the community was somehow diminished by the passing of men like these. They built things that were good and strong. These old machines are their legacy. They still work and do the job they were designed to do long after these men have passed. We will never be men like this, we will never understand men like this. We are another type of men. There is no good in men like us. Sometimes I come out to this barn just to be alone with this equipment and try to understand what it must’ve been like to be the man who built such things. To be a good man. A simple and good man.”
Then he looked over at me and said, “What will our legacy be, nephew?”
With that he turned toward the barn door, stopping to wait for me as I let his words sink in.
As I joined Unk he continued, “We live in a world without walls to contain us or boundaries. But, we come to learn we cannot trust anyone. Allegiances and allies change, seemingly by the minute. Your right hand, the guy you always trusted, you end up putting a plug in him because he fucked you over. Life happens, keep moving.
We lose touch with who we were, we lose our life before this. Every day in the life pushes us farther and farther away. We lose the simple things. We lose right and wrong, they are ever changing. Right and wrong are simply a result of circumstance. A condition of the now.
This administration reminds me of a failed bike race. Anyone who competes in any sport will understand. Falling behind is all in your mind, but it’s very real. Once you fall behind, you lose your edge, you start riding the other guy’s race. He dictates the pace, he controls the climbs, he controls your breathing. You find yourself falling behind and resenting everything. You start resenting breathing the same air as that jerk in front of you.
You might hang on, but the race is gone. It’s no longer fun. You start to take it out on yourself, your too old, too fat, too stupid. The list is endless. [Read more…] about This Ain’t No Bike Race, Either
July is summer.
July is everything February could never be.
February sucks, it doesn’t even try.
I want to be in the daylight every second of every July day.
Nothing is better than being on my bike on a 95-degree day. That feeling of being slow roasted. I absorb every fricken degree and store it. I swear that’s the only way I survive 20 below.
95 is awesome, 20 below is just plain stupid.
I get stressed being inside in July, like I’m wasting the summer.
I never wear pants in July. I hate pants.
I get strangely sad when July ends. August is great but it’s not July.
Late July is the time when friends start telling me how many weeks until winter… It is when people start talking about how much they “can’t wait” for the cool of autumn.
Bite me.
Late July people start using the “S” word around me and I want to cover my ears and sing really loud. It snows something like 14 months a year, can’t I just have July without mentioning that frozen, slushy crap?
Still, 4 days to go. That’s a lot, right?
I must be an eternal optimist. Every morning I wake up expecting the world to have somehow changed for the better – overnight -then I turn on the news and find myself greatly disappointed.
We are accepting things as normal that are just – flat out – not normal.
Are things as screwed up as they appear to be, or am I just a victim of some “good old days syndrome”? [Read more…] about Is It Me? I Think it Must Be Me. It Cannot Be This Screwed Up, Right?
