Posts Tagged ‘holiday’

Ah, To Be Alone

May 14th, 2017

This afternoon, my mother took my granny to a family outing. This being Mother’s day and all, four generations of Farmer moms were in attendance. My granny, my mom and aunt, my aunt’s children, two of whom have kids of their own.


I did not go. Oh no no no no. I wanted to be alone today. I wished my mother well and saw them off. They’ve been gone for about five hours which is the longest piece of alone time I’ve had in this apartment since my granny moved in about eight weeks ago. I am treasuring it.


This has been an inconvenience for both of us. Sometime next week, she will sign a new lease for her senior living apartment and begin to move out. Then I will be alone again. And I will enjoy that for the most part. Because I want to be alone.


It has not been an entirely negative living arrangement. She fusses over me like a grandmother does. She worries about me. She made hamburgers for me a few times. But the bad sometimes drowns out the good. And the bad is what I tend to dwell on.


I will never be happy.

A Dark Night That Lasts Years

February 16th, 2017

A dark night of the soul. Nights of spiritual despair. Moments where you cry for relief only to find none coming. Prayers that can’t be answered immediately, if at all.


I have been extremely depressed lately, and not just for political reasons. Just so happens that the political stuff is the easiest to talk about since it affects us all. But we all get depressed from time to time, right? Even if you’re not given to chronic depression and anxiety like I am.


Tuesday was Valentine’s Day, a day for lovers and the love-struck. Not for me, it’s not. It’s just a day between February 13th and 15th. I wish it weren’t so. I wish I had a love to call my own.


Who will comfort me in these uncertain times? Who will tell me I’ve been spending too much time on Twitter, please come and spend time with me instead. . .?


I don’t talk about my personal life on this space for a very good reason: I don’t have much of a personal life. Not that I would go around blabbing like an informant every time I went on a date. . . it’s just that there aren’t very many dates.


I’m relatively new to Whitesville. But I’m not a social person. I’m sensitive and self-conscious. Making a connection seems nearly impossible.


Maybe I can’t handle it. Maybe it’s just too much pressure. I’m like one of those Japanese men who have stopped trying to find a mate. Maybe I should get a pillow with a manga babe on it to be my girlfriend.


Maybe this is my life. Maybe I’m alone because I’m with the only person who can stand to be with me.

“Could you be loved?” – Bob Marley. Evidently not, Bob.


By the way, I finally got a hair cut last week. I figured it would be good to look less like Hagrid from Harry Potter. I’ve halfway shaved this fluff on my face into a somewhat organized look as well. I’m almost presentable.

November 2016 Wrap-Up

November 30th, 2016

November was a very active month for me, considering I barely left the house. This is the twenty-sixth post that I will publish this month. I never considered writing this month, but the political ramifications threw me into overdrive. You can understand.


At some point, I also have to record some music. I have written songs for publishing demos. The idea is to record in December. Just some basic demos so producers can go “hey, I can use that for this project” and BOOM, I get myself a placement on a album. Money, money, hell yeah.


Did you know that we have refugees here in Kentucky? We certainly do. And with this holiday season it would be a good time to welcome your local refugee with a nice letter welcoming them to the USA. That’s what I did. Today I mailed a letter to Americana Community Center so they can give them to the refugees who are kinda bewildered in a new country.



ATTN: Clare Ruiz

4801 Southside Drive

Louisville, Ky. 40214


They don’t have to be long, wordy letters. Some of the refugees may not be too good at English or may be children. Feel free to draw pictures, too. I wrote small sentences like “I’m glad you’re here” and “Welcome to the USA” and “You are my friend” and I drew some trees and I tried to draw a peace sign but I did it badly. But I played it off but saying “I am trying to draw a peace sign but I made a mistake. Sometimes it takes a few tries to get it right.”


Some books I confess to wanting to read:

No Half Steppin‘ by Claude “Paradise” Gray and Giuseppe “” Pipitone. No Half Steppin’ is as the subtitle suggests, An Oral and Pictorial History of New York City Club the Latin Quarter and the Birth of Hip-hop’s Golden Era. This book features oral history from a lot of people who were there in New York hip-hop in the mid-to-late 1980s, A Tribe Called Quest, Stetsasonic, Public Enemy, KRS-One, MC Shan, Eric B, and many more. Gray was the co-founder of classic rap group X-Clan and entertainment manager at the Latin Quarters back in the 80s while all this was going on. His archive of photos is tapped for what is sure to be a great book, tracing the steps from when hip-hop was a local phenomenon before it became a permanent part of popular culture.


Somebody To Love by Matt Richards and Mark Langhorne. A book about the life, death and legacy of Queen vocalist Freddie Mercury. It’s a biography of the legendary singer juxtaposed with the history of HIV. Some people be thought of without thinking of AIDS or HIV. Freddie is one, Magic Johnson is the other. Freddie’s history is linked to linked to AIDS being the first major rock star to die from the disease. And yet his death was the birth of the legend that continues even to this day, a ROCK GOD in meme form. The things you learn about him are staggering. That he downed a bottle of vodka in order to cut the vocals for “The Show Must Go On” in the last year of his life and sang the whole track in one take.

Lessons On Life From My Uncles

November 26th, 2014

The holidays are always good for checking in with those relatives you don’t see all the time. I have so many uncles I can’t count them all (four).
My uncle Jeff was telling me a little bit about life a few years ago. What he said was:

“You’re born, then you get older, then you die, then your soul goes to Heaven or Hell after the War on Earth like it’s foretold in Revelations.”

Uncle Jeff was pretty heavy into his Bible. He’d been in and out of jail a few times until he sobered up for good and found Jesus. Now everybody has to hear the Gospel at social functions. Uncle Ron is a lot more fun to be around. He drinks more and prays less. One night after he gave his daughter away in marriage he came up to me half in the bag and told me something I’ll never forget.


Uncle Ron told me: “First you get born. Then they put you in school. Then you they give you a gun and tell you to go kill a bunch of Viet Cong and you go kill them Viet Congs. Then you come home and you stop killing Viet Congs but you keep smoking heroin. Then you sober up about twenty years later and somehow you got a wife and kids and a job driving trucks. Then you die.” Then he gave me a hug and went into the bushes to piss. Ronnie could be a sentimental, oversharing drunk but he was more fun than Uncle Jeff every time.


Uncle Zisek took me to a Kentucky game when I was fourteen. After the game, he stopped in a liquor store and got a 40 ouncer of Falls City for the ride home. He had me take a few pulls off of it and while we were riding along he said this to me: “Boy, there’s a few things you gotta know about life. First you die. Then you are reborn. Then you come out of your mother’s womb. Then you spend your life in eternal torment because you’ve been kicked out your mother’s womb which is the most serene feeling in the world. Then you die by your own hand.” The family doesn’t talk to Uncle Zisek anymore since he ended up on house arrest for possession of. . . you know what let’s talk about Uncle Harry.


Uncle Harry. What a life he led. Every time we saw him he had some new crazy story. One Christmas he pulled me aside, lit up a smoke and told me a story. “Kid, I want you to remember this. One day you’re born. The next, you’re selling $8,000 worth of bootleg Aerosmith shirts in the parking lot of their tour opener in Pensacola. The next day, you wake up to find the money’s gone, along with your girlfriend’s car and all of her belongings. Before you know it, the mob is breaking your fingers. Within a few years, you end up on the cover of a Cannibal Corpse album. That’s life and there aint a fucking thing you can do about it. Now let’s go eat some eat some cranberry!” I liked Uncle Harry but he passed away. Officially. Every December we get a Christmas card from “Hrothgar Von Whatley”, which is the most obvious made-up name of all time but I’m not saying anything.