Good afternoon, evening, morning wherever you may be. It's old Glen coming at you from the heart of the Heartland. Where would that be? The Midwest. Are we tired of the political situation? Hell yes! I'm sick already and we're just getting started. Sure looks like a lot of clowns to me.
I find myself so tired of life in general, I could just cry, and I think I will. You know if it wasn't for Taco and Rambo my two dogs I would be nutsier than I already am. I talk to them and you know what, they're better than drugs, therapy and butter pecan ice cream. Just today I was in a silly mood and I wanted to see their reaction to me pretending to cry. Taco my Chihuahua just looked at me. Rambo my little Yorkie, all 4 pounds of him looked at me questioning my actions came over to me and licked me in the face. I was totally awed by this reaction. I can say anything to them and they'll listen to me, looking me right in the eye. Eerily strange and cute at the same time. Sure they have no idea about what I'm saying but just the look they give me is special. You animal lovers will know what I'm talking about, the rest of you will think that gut is fricking out of his head! Try therapy and see how much they charge. I'd rather talk to Rambo or Taco, they'll look me in the eyes, acknowledge me and make me feel a lot better for peanuts, well actually dog food. I take Rambo riding with me and doing chores, we'll get us some chicken nuggets and have a high-o-time, he can out walk me.
I'm closer to my dogs than anyone at this stage in my life. I suppose it's because I spend 24 hours a day and feed them and take care of them, since I can't work anymore. As I type this Rambo is curled up asleep on my desk on one of my shirts. Taco is in his bed at my feet. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind without them I would be in a different state of mind, I've been there done that, don't want no more of that shite! Whatever it takes to keep on a sailing in a nice steady wind is what I want the remainder of my life to be about. I no longer wish to be around people, seems I'm talking a different language, even communication with family and friends is strange anymore. I find it best to live within myself. I reckon myself understands me, forced to after well over 60 years. I'm not saying I'm right or wrong, it's easier to just keep my mouth shut, sheltering myself from the storms of living.
I'm frustrated at this point in my life, surviving apparently is not enough, living countless days neither winning or losing is hard. Harder than most realize. They act like it would be so nice to not work, nor have a care in the world. My passions are long gone. Just waiting . . . waiting is hard!
So my passion is not Christ but my two small furry friends. Taco makes me get up every morning by jumping all over my bed, finally laying on my chest and dragging the blanket off me. He is still full of that playful puppiness that endears him to me, reminding me of a long ago, a lost time, I once had. What can I say about Rambo he's a lap dog that wants to be around me all the time. He is 5 years old and so well behaved and so little it's easy to overlook him.