I woke up feeling heavy a lot this past year. I still do. In some ways I have no business doing so anymore. Son’s in college, happy it seems. I finally make decent money, and with a really good schedule, I plan to travel more (economy permitting). And check this out:
And:
,
Plenty of dopamine hits this past year, homies.
Guess what else. I had enough free time that I was able to research my death –will vs trust fund, etc–only to find out that when I do go tits up it still won’t cost my family a dime. Not even after big bad Trump promised to slash slash slash, doge doge doge. Nope. My funeral and all its’ associated expenses are still fully covered by the VA. Have you seen what dead people cost these days?
So why the heavy feeling?
I know I sound like a broken record by now, but I lost my job last year. It was a really big deal, and I’m still reeling from it. Even though I grew a lot as a consequence, and met some incredible young people, and grew closer to my creator (man, did I pray a lot), and got plenty of house projects completed, there’s this anatomy to getting fired at 55 that’s hard. Really hard. Let’s see: I got to take out a high-interest loan to have cash to pay my bills.
Make minimum payments on my credit cards because I didn’t know where or when I’d be working next, which, think about it–all the interest that accrues in a year.
It was scarce under last year’s Christmas tree. This year’s remains to be seen.
I missed a blues festival in eastern Washington.
The ex still expected her full child support, and she had the full backing of the state.
I call these elements of my “reinvention,” a touchy-feely word I chose to make me feel a little better about my state. This last year sucked, though. This last year was probably also one of the best things to ever happen to me. How did Billy Bob (Thornton) put it once while talking about his deceased brother? “I’m kind of sad and happy all the time. . . I’m all those things at once.” I couldn’t have said it better myself.
But suffer in silence, I reminded myself. It’s hard. This one long hair in particular likes to fuck with me even now after a couple of months on the job. He knows more than me, which is not unusual on boats when you’re just stepping onboard. I do the only thing I know how: I buy him a shot at a bar in Nanaimo, British Columbia and challenge him to a pull up contest in January. I should like to point out I once handed a 20-something his ass at my last job with 67 straight pushups without stopping to his 49. Fucker kept calling me old man, I had no choice. Alright fucker let’s do this. You too, Long Hair. I’ve little confidence I can take him.
That kind of reinvention.
And working the shit shifts again, or twelve to sixes.
And being tired a lot.
And not eating the best or healthiest.
And and and.
And all while trying to keep this forum going. The grape going. We want to avoid or postpone dementia as long as we can around here. We’d love a seat at the national table some day, even better.
You might say Things Men Carry is going through a reinvention of its own. Recently in fact. For starters, we’re deleting the first two years of posts because, simple, three’s enough. And of the three years remaining, we’ve deleted a few of those too. It doesn’t matter why. Besides, we’ll rework some and pump them right back out. Relax, we’re not above butt plugs, impact toys and other things fetish around here after this reinvention. We’re a men’s forum, cryin’ out loud. But we’re also trying like hell–been trying like hell!–to establish a catchy voice, a brand that’ll be around a while. Some pieces’ll just have to stay six feet under for good in that effort, then. If you missed them, well, tough shit.
Trump has not been deleted or cancelled here for the record. You can go back and see what we had to say about him. We owned what we said then, and we do now. We are watching closely this latest shit show with Kimmel. For now it seems all his comedic compadres rallied around him last night in political satire and aren’t being cancelled–we’ll keep a close watch.
We also promised in our last post to come full circle on a few things we carry here, personally. In case you don’t want to go back and read about these, here they are real briefly: fear my monthly VA check would be cut, thanks to Trump. Fear my kid’s college loans would be compromised or cancelled, thanks to Trump. Fear my job’s in jeopardy, thanks to Trump. Tell me I don’t have a front row stake and personal interest in our President’s policies, I dare you.
And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for:
It took less than two minutes for a live body to come to the phone that day I called. My VA check is still coming in. All I have to do is fill out another form for the tack-on.
FAFSA. Beth McMahon has not interfered with FAFSA as far as I can tell. If she does, we’ll be the first to sound the bells. For now, then, my son’s federal aid is intact.
My job:
We’ll have to wait and see about the state of these barges before I can accurately answer that question. For now, they’re full. And I’m helping move them. Sand. Gravel. Scrap metal. Economic indicators as good as any others. See, homies, not only do I have personal stakes in our President’s policies, I have front row seats, literally.
Now, imagine other homies who, too, have front row seats to our national topics. Immigration. DOGE. Israel. Mental illness. Getting cancelled. Share with you what I consider a DEI story soon.
So yeah, write us. Tell us what you carry. Divorce. Depression. An erotic tale. A travel piece. A single dad piece. Thinking he was a she and . . a fashion tip. Shit, how to unjam a rifle or treat a snake bite out in the middle of nowhere.
If it’s a more politicized thing you carry, though, like what I highlighted up there, then write us your story (not your opinion). I repeat: not with your opinion. What you think is most likely to be a regurgitation of someone else’s talking points, anyway: Heather’s (Richardson Cox). Tom’s (Hartmann). Tucker’s (Carlson) or Sean’s (Hannity), and you don’t need us for that. Write us your story goddamnit. Because we’re trying to spin our own narrative around here. I got the perfect title for it, too: the actual truth of what’s going on out there. But.
But but but we can’t do it without you. Remember it’s Things Men Carry.
We was taken already five years ago.
-tmc
Things Men Carry 