I can’t tell you how many nights I spent sitting around an old table when I was a kid getting high while risking the nights tips on bad hand after bad hand of nickel, dime, quarter poker. Looking back on it now, those nights best describe my twenties and most of my thirties…Bang or bust, you rode the ride just to see where you would end up.
Inevitably, much like in real life, it soon became obvious when somebody was on a bad run as they dug into their folding money just to stay at the table. That would start the catcalls of “Them cards…oh yeah they be burnin’!”; digging at the financial wounds of the night with a little emotional salt just for the fun of it.
There was never a rhyme or reason behind the rejection, the cards would just keep staring back at you as your hard earned cash would wash away in a silvery tide; no apologizes coming from their static stoic faces. There was also no guarantee that the cards would burn forever…
But at the time it sure feels like it.
In my opinion that is what living is like till one becomes aware of the cyclical nature of life…
Everything seems personal, every bump and jolt on the roller-coaster of living is an affront. To this day, I still fall victim to the idea that the world has it out for me in my weaker moments.
But the reality of the world is that it’s not personal, it’s cyclical. There are an infinite number of factors playing upon everyone’s lives yet somehow patterns form, everything old becomes new again and the wonder of life blooms fresh its beautiful bouquet of opportunities before withering again.
The key is recognizing the change of cycles and putting one’s self in the right position to take advantage of the change. This is not something I have always had a talent for.
Age, however, has bequeathed to me the gift of at least recognizing when tides have begun to shift or storms are on the horizon and I am fascinated by the cycles now that I have started to notice them.
My son wandering around in the very beginnings of his life (he’s 20); not quite aware of the power he has on the world, reluctant to reach out and embrace it.
My daughter; barely ten, still a little girl but becoming a young woman with every tentative step into a great big world of endless confusing possibilities.
Childhood idols fall to the scythe of time, age, and health while new influences take their shadowy place in my already over crowded mind.
Funny how in a year universally recognized as the physical as well as meta-physical embodiment of change, I; the dark brooding piscean, is suddenly so touched by the concept of change. Am I driven by some silent hidden animalistic urge, reacting to a sub-conscious threat to my own existence?
Have I reached a point in my life where the very idea of “possibility” is the only hope brightening an otherwise somewhat bleak outlook?
Hell…Who am I kidding? I am just getting old.
Update on the writing front:
Still no computer (five months and counting, if you are counting), but my idea for a short story book to publish online is really coming together. It is a little piecemeal on my notes app for the iPhone but it is really shaping up into a solid work.
Nine short stories so far; most in the working first draft stage but a few of them shined and polished. I figure at around twenty five to thirty pages per story, S.P.; as I am calling it now, should have a pretty healthy page count when finally finished.
As far as the zombie animation movie…well that is a dream perhaps reserved for a later date. I have been thinking that I should aim a little lower, perhaps a Kickstarter project to fund a graphic novel version of S.P.
(If there is a struggling artist out there looking to make their mark, get in touch. Maybe we can put our heads together and figure out how to get you paid and me published at the same time!)
I really hope my new found faith in the internet, social media, and all the success that is to be found within pans out. I know there is weeks and months of hard work ahead fraught with challenges I have yet to imagine but I believe something is about to change.
Them cards, they sure have been a burnin’ but I believe in an ace on the river.