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***The Official Wikkidpissah Irish Wake Thread*** (1 Viewer)

This ain't fallin' off the first page yet long as I have something to say about it.  If my daily posts are too much, please let me know.  And then I'm gonna ignore you.

Working on the Wikkidpedia project has made me embarrassed to realize that I had no idea wikkid loved SNL so much and commented on every. damn. episode.  It never came up in our conversations, maybe because I haven't watched since the early-ish days.  wikkid took SNL early in the Great Works Draft:

But I'm not here tonight to share just that.  I'm here to share the story of the time he auditioned.
This is amazing. Never saw his SNL stuff. Great share here! 

 
Yep - he knew something about everything. And his racetrack stories from back in the day were legendary. Reflecting more I’ve come to realize what I loved most about Wikkid was that he wasn’t wishy washy. He had a take. He didn’t spend his life straddling the middle. But he did it in a way that let you have your own take without judgment. 
Well said. It's something I subconsciously knew and loved about him but that exact conclusion/insight had never quite struck me directly. Something to strive for. 

 
Yep - he knew something about everything. And his racetrack stories from back in the day were legendary. Reflecting more I’ve come to realize what I loved most about Wikkid was that he wasn’t wishy washy. He had a take. He didn’t spend his life straddling the middle. But he did it in a way that let you have your own take without judgment. 
Try drafting Russell Baze then see if you still say the bold. :lmao:  

 
Yep - he knew something about everything. And his racetrack stories from back in the day were legendary. Reflecting more I’ve come to realize what I loved most about Wikkid was that he wasn’t wishy washy. He had a take. He didn’t spend his life straddling the middle. But he did it in a way that let you have your own take without judgment. 
Try drafting Russell Baze then see if you still say the bold. :lmao:  


:lmao:

Yeah, I was thinking of objecting to this a little but thought better of it.  My view of Dale is that he made you prove yourself, but then once you were "in," he respected your differing opinions and even used them to modify his own.  But I don't think we can totally reconcile the "I was scared to see he had replied to my post" stuff with Judge's post without acknowledging that you had to pay your dues, and even then you might get a lot of mostly-good-natured ribbing thereafter.  It's part of what took me so long to appreciate Dale.  I thought he hated me for years!  :lol:  

Gonna share a little personal project I've been working on for my post today.   As we've discussed in here, a few of us are working on saving every wikkid post we can and then will sort and organize them in some way.  It's neck-cricking, finger-paralyzing work, but so rewarding in its own way.  But when we started this project, I noticed that wikkid only ever "won" three days here on for his content.  For those who aren't nerds, "winning" means that, for that day, your various posts received the most total "reactions."  How could one of absolutely most beloved posters have so few "wins"?

I set about to change this.  Five days ago, while immersed in the copy/paste project, I decided to "react" to each copied wikkid post in one way or another to ensure he won the day (and I had a friend who helped me for at least one of those days, too).  And it's worked!  He's up to seven wins now, even beating out some dumdum named "krista4" a few days ago who is probably stewing about her relegation to #2 for the day.

I knew this mostly solo project was dumb, and wikkid wouldn't have given AF, but I was doing it anyway.  Then today, I came across this post from wikkid in a 2016 thread entitled, "How many days have you won," where he acknowledged only winning one at that point.

I'm going to continue this practice until my vacation end of next week.  If anyone wants to help me out before or after then, feel free.  At least I know by then he should have 16 days won, still a fraction of what he should have, but better.  :)

@prosopis, this is the "wake" I referred to in the RIP thread (there hasn't been an IRL service).  Read through and join in, as I think you'll enjoy it.  

 
I'm going to continue this practice until my vacation end of next week.  If anyone wants to help me out before or after then, feel free.  At least I know by then he should have 16 days won, still a fraction of what he should have, but better.  :)
I have 19, so by all means, get him to 20. 

 
When you're a widower, you tend to put your deceased beloved on waaaay too high a pedestal and it makes you all the sadder. When i get there with my Mary, i just play a few minutes of Jasmine and it all comes back to ground.
Blanchett's Blue Jasmine is right there with BGanz's Hitler & DD-L's Lincoln among the best performances of the century, but i get your meaning. Turned Woody Allen's comic fetish of the modern female neurotic into almost a O'Neill/Tennessee Williams-worthy heroine. Will jump on your Hoss.

 
simey said:
I have 2 days won, and I don't know what they were from. If those days disappear, I'll know who made it happen. 🔪  j/k


:lmao:   They don't work retroactively, so you are safe.  In other words, he doesn't win for the date he made the posts, but for the date the "likes" are given.  He has won July 8-13 now.  Although you did come in second on July 10 and I came in second July 9, so I screwed each of us out of a win.  :lol:  

Huge thanks to an another poster who is helping out.  Without him, wikkid wouldn't have won yesterday.  :ninja:

 
simey said:
I have 2 days won, and I don't know what they were from. If those days disappear, I'll know who made it happen. 🔪  j/k
I also have won 2 days. Second one was the last Boxing Day before the pandemic. I really have no clue what is was I said around then, but I guess I should be happy I said it.

 
When you're a widower, you tend to put your deceased beloved on waaaay too high a pedestal and it makes you all the sadder. When i get there with my Mary, i just play a few minutes of Jasmine and it all comes back to ground.
The bolded is pretty much what we discussed when I lost my wife.  It was SO poignant when he pointed it out ...and also such a strange sort of deja vu feeling when I realized it was absolutely true.  Now I have to go play all her favorite songs. :(

 
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A couple of days ago I finished up saving all of the 2016 wikkid posts.  He had taken about a year-long break so was only posting from August onward.  Rather than focusing on a serious one or a story, here are some fun quick hits.  :)  

My absolute favorite:

Cartoon monkeys are stealing my underwear for the FBI


Moar:

asphyxia sounds like fun! let's dance!!


So it is what it is. Let's dance!


Yeah, Timmy - you're bein all Hitler about this...


Aleppo's the guy who killed Pinocchio with an IED in Pinocchio 2: The Reckoning


We disagree then. The world's big enough for that.


i respected this process 'til bourbon came out below brazil nuts


If you live in a bubble, the smoke dont get out


I get that! I'm old and i get that - I STILL GOT IT!! Honey, get the Grand Marquis out of the garage - we gonna do something yeezy or twerky in 3D!


I hear you. And her people manage her decolletage beautifully - you always think you'll see more. But i'm a very large person - tiny women scare me like kitties do a labrador.


duty-free orphanages - really dress up those African airports. investors?


you always mean something - that's why i dont love you as deeply as i should.


you write like Jameis Winston somehow. i think i'm ok with that -


*lalala* Oh, when that Shuke bites with his teeth, dear, scarlet billows start to spread *lalala*


You could have said your first commuter vehicle was the Montgolfier Brothers' balloon and you rode a crawling Salma Hayek for a year and we still wouldnt have noticed the post after chet's


all humans should have piano lessons. songs and the funny - that's god, y'know? there's no charts for the funny, but there's math to music and you're an iijjitt if'n you can't read that truth...


Just remember, folks, it is not absolutely necessary that you take life personally. Happenstance is not on you, only how you respond. Winter solstice means days get longer again. Best of the season to all -


And a smattering of his sage words to @Nathan R. Jessep, during the hug king chronicles:

How ugly are you?!


Ashamed of all y'all. Reminds me of being 14 and listening to all the parsing ####### while my buddy and i were solving all our probs w alcohol and making girls feel self-conscious about their flaws. While i'm here, though - congrats on the go mission. Screw menu and make two punch pitchers. One for kids and one for grownups. Fruity rum drinks drop panties quicker'n cheap elastic.
No playdate update? Does that mean....

- boom chikka wawa?

- he aint gettin out of the shower til his cojones deblue?

- he fed himself to the gatahs sos sum'n would eat him tonite, cher?


Careful, judge. It's kinda like watching the distillation process. Whole lotta fuss for a coupla drips.


Wish we could do an in-thread pole to guess which base the colonel is currently on. i say bigass Papi double.


That's it. Somehow we gotta Go-Pro this guy. That can't all have gone down without some kind of lean-in prompt that he futzed off as trampoline gas.


translation: "Unless you can read this, you ain't seein' my trampstamp, #####!"


Colonel, you gots to take her, even in the smallest way, at some point in your next encounter or its lost. All you'll have is a complicated relationship w a neighbor in which you'll invest waaaay too much for even more too little if next time the it of it don't get out. Be real, dont play. The time is here. GL -


Hug? You know how to hug don't you?! Just wrap your arms around her terrible judgement and squeeze.


Even in Louisiana, the kids get a snow day if the ol' man's plowin'


dood, you got a PG booty call w that 2nd assignation and you nerfdildoed it. If she's phyllin it, you just told her you can do without her. if you don't do sum'n impulsive and get your hand back TO####inDAY, you've turned Marissa into Lessrissa. you're dead to me. *drops weedwacker*


Might hug em - hugglies, as they're known in the biz - soon. There's an instructional video but it aint pretty.


My vote is for connecting the two houses with a gigantic hugway with the hebrew symbol for 'blueballs' painted on it.


That's why we all endured a month of these feckless he-sterics - to make you happy?!?! Oh, somebody get me a bucket....


her walk-in closet. get there -


Is it woo?

 
I thank you guys so much for doing the thing with all his posts.  I plan on making an attempt to read all of them, life permitting.  This is my first song post in this thread(the wife's favorite although I sang it terribly), I'm in a sappy mood and in my emotions.  Thanks all

https://youtu.be/Ldm9agMQ148

 
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A place i could not bear to see these days.

When i moved to NM in the 70s, my buddies would go on two fishing trips a year - one (stag) to a tributary of the San Juan River where the freshwater shrimp made for huge trout (then mushrooms in Monument Valley, boating on Powell & gambling in Vegas), and to Cabo (with our ladies) to chase marlin and catch dorado (though i hooked a shark once that was the hardest work i ever did). The airport terminal was a circus tent (tremendously useful during hurricanes) and there were two hotels in town and one full-service resort hotel up the coast.

Best time i ever had in my life was (i remember it was the day Sadat got shot) flying in thru the eye of a hurricane (the circus tent drowned our porter when one of the bags he was carrying touched the canvas, just like a pup tent when youre camping), having the only driver willing to brave the dozens of flooded arroyos on the way to San Lucas, watching the weaker half of the hurricane blow through from a palapa and, being told there wouldnt be any fishing worth ####, me & my lady taking a canoe out the cove to a beach near a seal rock. Long story short, the seals played tag with us for hours - swimming str8 at us w their teeth bared by their speed thru the water, then veering their big white bellies past us like the truckers used to try to do with their trailers when i was a hitchhiker. Amazing ####.

Bet it's just like that now....
Cabo San Lucas

 
It's the same but it's not the same, i know, but i been a widower for 20 yrs, shady, and the hole dont go away. Sometimes i'll be talking and i dont even know i'm thinking of my Mary and i'll choke up or break down in the middle of a sentence and embarrass the crap outta myself. Sometimes i'll be doing something really positive & proactive and a wave of utter uselessness will sweep over me and tell me no matter what i do it'll add up to nothing cuz we all die and none of us really do that much when it comes right down to it so why bother. Sometimes i just dont have to bother cuz i know that even lifting an arm will be painful and worthless.

After a while, though, you come to see it as your inside weather, and you know to enjoy the sunny days more, not to board up the windows for every storm that passes but maybe keep the umbrella close for a while, just flat give yourself a snow day sometimes. And i remind myself that i hurt so much because i loved so much and what a beautiful thing that is. Then i live, love, leave it better than i found it like i'm supposed to do every day and remember that the chance life provides to do and feel great things is worth it all. GL -

 
You just gotta remind yourself that a lot of that's physical - indigestion of the id, sciatica of the soul. As i've said in this thread before, depression imitates the physical mechanism within us for dealing with starvation. It shuts down, makes every effort feel useless because it burns calories when there is nothing available to replace them with. Pain, grief starves the heart, so to speak. It's physical, not moral, not your fault any more than gas is, none of that - there is no need to take it personally. You can win over this by remembering it's the same as a cramp - it will pass, you can treat it, can take measures to make it happen less. It only harms the next moment and the moment after that if you let it. Again, GL -

 
Speaking of gas (as in prior post by jamny), and in memoriam for Ivana Trump, I came across this one today, from 2017:

I was at Studio 54 in the late 70s and Don & Ivana Trump were sitting with Cheryl Tiegs and some hockey player at a nearby table. I was checkin out Tiegs when  i noticed Trump's cheeks puff out weirdly. His face got terribly distorted, he started looking kinda down his nose all sour like. His lips puckered and his eyes bugged and then the weirdest thing happened - his Wall Street ducktail hair started to get all poofy and terrace-y and weird. Nobody said anything and i wasnt getting up, so i just did another line and a shot and watched him go all sour. Just for grins, i followed him next time he got up. The future POTUS made his way to the men's room, locked himself in a stall and let one rip that sounded like moving 20 desks on a cement floor. Ducked out before the stank followed. Went back to my table, figured it musta been the clams casino @ Rayo's. He came back, stayed most of the evening, but his hair and disposition never seemed to have gone back to normal. Caveat fartor!

 
Part of me doesn't feel worthy of posting here, as it's clear that he touched your lives more deeply than mine, but it's getting late where I am and I'm lubricated enough to overcome that anxiety...

In the end, he was the big brother I didn't get to have.  My actual big brother is the middle child and spent most of his time pushing both my and my older sister's buttons. Those two had some intense fights over the years and neither seemed that interested in their relationship with me; plus, by the time I was 11, both had moved out of the house and I basically became an only child after that. Even now, the only reason I know anything about either of them is because I've kept regular contact with my parents. Wikkid came to fill the void they created in my life, I suppose. And TBH, he was probably the first Baby Boomer I came in contact with that wasn't completely self-involved and was interested in connecting with the generation(s) that came after him. I wasn't afraid to 'challenge' him when I found a nit to pick in one of his comments, and I give him credit for having the patience to tolerate and not squash an outgunned opponent. Just like a good big brother would do.

 
I wasn't afraid to 'challenge' him when I found a nit to pick in one of his comments, and I give him credit for having the patience to tolerate and not squash an outgunned opponent. Just like a good big brother would do.
I would occasionally call him out if he posted something too stereotypically (in a bad way) Boomer-ish, and he could have easily ripped me apart rhetorically, especially because I've only been a regular in the FFA for a few years and didn't have years of history with him like a lot of people here did, but he never did. 

He was also good-humored about the creative ways I found to needle him about Carole King's negative effect on his libido. 

 
I would occasionally call him out if he posted something too stereotypically (in a bad way) Boomer-ish, and he could have easily ripped me apart rhetorically, especially because I've only been a regular in the FFA for a few years and didn't have years of history with him like a lot of people here did, but he never did. 

He was also good-humored about the creative ways I found to needle him about Carole King's negative effect on his libido. 
For me, it was usually just nit-picky stuff that wasn't really related to the main point he was making, and whatever reasonable, rational point I made wasn't strong enough to sway him, so he just let it roll off his back. 

That's a quality I want to propagate with my own posting and IRL interactions. The current climate of discourse could use more of that, I think.

 
Part of me doesn't feel worthy of posting here, as it's clear that he touched your lives more deeply than mine, but it's getting late where I am and I'm lubricated enough to overcome that anxiety...

In the end, he was the big brother I didn't get to have.  My actual big brother is the middle child and spent most of his time pushing both my and my older sister's buttons. Those two had some intense fights over the years and neither seemed that interested in their relationship with me; plus, by the time I was 11, both had moved out of the house and I basically became an only child after that. Even now, the only reason I know anything about either of them is because I've kept regular contact with my parents. Wikkid came to fill the void they created in my life, I suppose. And TBH, he was probably the first Baby Boomer I came in contact with that wasn't completely self-involved and was interested in connecting with the generation(s) that came after him. I wasn't afraid to 'challenge' him when I found a nit to pick in one of his comments, and I give him credit for having the patience to tolerate and not squash an outgunned opponent. Just like a good big brother would do.
### #### that is ####### awesome.

O ####, I just discovered I had PMs with wikkid going back to 2016.  I initiated a conversation, "How to Write?" ... totally lame, I know.

a snippet from our bard: "..., or perhaps sublime (i do not read at all except for research, btw, but do highly recommend deadwhiteguy Edmund Burke's "On the Sublime and the Beautiful")"

Reading list updated.

 
For me, it was usually just nit-picky stuff that wasn't really related to the main point he was making, and whatever reasonable, rational point I made wasn't strong enough to sway him, so he just let it roll off his back. 

That's a quality I want to propagate with my own posting and IRL interactions. The current climate of discourse could use more of that, I think.


You've said a few times that you didn't feel like it was your place to start this thread or whatever, but as it turns out the fact that you did is part of what made Dale so special.  He made so many of us feel elevated even if we questioned ourselves.

Having read hundreds (thousands?) of his posts recently, I have seen so many instances where he was challenging someone, and frankly sometimes not all that politely, but then after a bunch of back and forth he "gives" and welcomes them into that beautiful space of his appreciating them.  I do think he would challenge you to make sure you were "worthy" of his time, but those who were sincere in what they posted inevitably made it into that realm.

Like you, I've been trying to propagate some of Dale's kindness recently.  Despite everything, he still seemed to think the best of people until proven wrong.  I'm trying to keep that in mind, too.

 
Soak this in:

You may not find this helpful, old friend, but i don't really write. I just think. Here's a li'l sneak peak, from one of the articles intended for my blog, on my relationship with the written word:

  Quote

Hemingway said that writing’s founding motive is need – the abject compulsion to express oneself by committed word. For the first half-century of my life, I felt a talent for words, was urged on by others who recognized that potential, but avoided writing as much as I could. Zeal for hewned word, turned phrase and warped metaphor but no zest for posterity had I. When circumstance put me in a position of early retirement and I found my yen for reflection finally greater than my taste for verve, I attempted several projects designed to engage and amuse the general public and proceeded to amass a depth and breadth of incomplete files unrivaled in scribbledom.

But the fire still wasn’t there. Neither my talent nor drive was for writing, merely thinking. The impressions I’d blurt in public because everything else was boring, catching the attention and imagination of others for short spurts, were no more than the sparks of my turning wheel. There was no consistent flame, raging conflagration nor even sustaining glow.  The serpentine sputtering of a fugitive wire - briefly disconnected, quickly handled and forgotten, as long as no harm was done. That’s that, then – no art for me.

Expand  

It's obvious that there's some innate talent there and i do so enjoy crafting lines that evoke confusions of passion matching those that the heart creates each day. A while ago, one FFA reader gave me the best compliment my words have ever received, "I feel better for having read what he says, even if i have no idea what it means". I've spent the last couple of years trying to be more understandable and the blog will tell if i've succeeded, but i stil most purely love to work myself up a word bomb for to creampie the world with my essence.

And that's it for me - I think and i think and i think and i think and i think. I take in data, make connections (the bridges - metaphors - one builds between disparate notions is the home of good writing), form conclusions, argue with and edit myself til i'm sure it holds up and say "that is good". You'll notice i make no mention of remembering - maybe it's because i can count on a decent memory, but i make little effort to corral or record my thoughts. I trust that if they're worthy they'll stick somehow and move on. When there are fireflies, i watch. I don't build jars. Not trapping my thoughts as ideas keeps a burgoo of mental energy swirling around my head that is, more or less, my energy source. Works great, if you can stand the noise.

And that goes to the most important part of creativity - finding the quiet inside yourself that allows you to make sense of life's noise. Perspective. One simply cannot decipher noise - one's own or others' - while be noisy oneself. Patience is the only truly great thing a parent can teach a child and, since most don't, the greatest thing a person can teach himself. My head works too fast for me to empty it, like in meditation, but i have learned to separate myself from it and feel the beauty of a moment without myself in it. You're naked but it's warm and you just feel thankful that beauty is available to you and you may have the capacity to create beauty for others to behold.

And that's the key, the best technical advice i can give. You see, there is for each of us a beauty only we can serve. Find it, live it, be it, do it. If your PrisonWorld is the most beautiful, or perhaps sublime (i do not read at all except for research, btw, but do highly recommend deadwhiteguy Edmund Burke's "On the Sublime and the Beautiful") thing in your head, serve it. Care not about how it will taste to others, but make it as delicious as you can stand. You can alter the ingredients for public consumption later. Chef up the most sumptuous PrisonWorld bull dyke you can and put it on a plate. The world deserves your best first. Good luck. More later -

 
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Also, I have a story for Babylon Sisters percolating, may get around to putting it up in the FFA.  Has to do with not hearing destiny correctly.

 
Just dawned on me he won’t get to see how the Better Call Saul/Breaking Bad series ends. He spent thousands of words in those threads admiring the writing and how well put together those shows are, especially compared to other shows. There were only a handful of episodes left. 
 

That sucks. 
Funny you bring this up. This is one of the things that has really haunted me and I am not sure why. For some reason I think of these things often. 

 
"be humble, be real, be in the moment and know you are a force for good in the world. it'll be fine"

This was something he sent to me after I sent a very long pm. I loved how he answered with one line after I wrote a novella about how things were going. I will say that novella was regarding situations I was dealing with in a better way than I had in the past secondary to his help. I saw this line as confirmation that I was on the right path.

 
Soak this in:

You may not find this helpful, old friend, but i don't really write. I just think. Here's a li'l sneak peak, from one of the articles intended for my blog, on my relationship with the written word:

  Quote

Hemingway said that writing’s founding motive is need – the abject compulsion to express oneself by committed word. For the first half-century of my life, I felt a talent for words, was urged on by others who recognized that potential, but avoided writing as much as I could. Zeal for hewned word, turned phrase and warped metaphor but no zest for posterity had I. When circumstance put me in a position of early retirement and I found my yen for reflection finally greater than my taste for verve, I attempted several projects designed to engage and amuse the general public and proceeded to amass a depth and breadth of incomplete files unrivaled in scribbledom.

But the fire still wasn’t there. Neither my talent nor drive was for writing, merely thinking. The impressions I’d blurt in public because everything else was boring, catching the attention and imagination of others for short spurts, were no more than the sparks of my turning wheel. There was no consistent flame, raging conflagration nor even sustaining glow.  The serpentine sputtering of a fugitive wire - briefly disconnected, quickly handled and forgotten, as long as no harm was done. That’s that, then – no art for me.

Expand  

It's obvious that there's some innate talent there and i do so enjoy crafting lines that evoke confusions of passion matching those that the heart creates each day. A while ago, one FFA reader gave me the best compliment my words have ever received, "I feel better for having read what he says, even if i have no idea what it means". I've spent the last couple of years trying to be more understandable and the blog will tell if i've succeeded, but i stil most purely love to work myself up a word bomb for to creampie the world with my essence.

And that's it for me - I think and i think and i think and i think and i think. I take in data, make connections (the bridges - metaphors - one builds between disparate notions is the home of good writing), form conclusions, argue with and edit myself til i'm sure it holds up and say "that is good". You'll notice i make no mention of remembering - maybe it's because i can count on a decent memory, but i make little effort to corral or record my thoughts. I trust that if they're worthy they'll stick somehow and move on. When there are fireflies, i watch. I don't build jars. Not trapping my thoughts as ideas keeps a burgoo of mental energy swirling around my head that is, more or less, my energy source. Works great, if you can stand the noise.

And that goes to the most important part of creativity - finding the quiet inside yourself that allows you to make sense of life's noise. Perspective. One simply cannot decipher noise - one's own or others' - while be noisy oneself. Patience is the only truly great thing a parent can teach a child and, since most don't, the greatest thing a person can teach himself. My head works too fast for me to empty it, like in meditation, but i have learned to separate myself from it and feel the beauty of a moment without myself in it. You're naked but it's warm and you just feel thankful that beauty is available to you and you may have the capacity to create beauty for others to behold.

And that's the key, the best technical advice i can give. You see, there is for each of us a beauty only we can serve. Find it, live it, be it, do it. If your PrisonWorld is the most beautiful, or perhaps sublime (i do not read at all except for research, btw, but do highly recommend deadwhiteguy Edmund Burke's "On the Sublime and the Beautiful") thing in your head, serve it. Care not about how it will taste to others, but make it as delicious as you can stand. You can alter the ingredients for public consumption later. Chef up the most sumptuous PrisonWorld bull dyke you can and put it on a plate. The world deserves your best first. Good luck. More later -
This whole thing is great but the bolded really jumped out at me.

 
Funny you bring this up. This is one of the things that has really haunted me and I am not sure why. For some reason I think of these things often. 
For me it’s just very unfair he didn’t get to see how it ends, which sounds kind of dumb when you consider you know, he died and all, but still. It’s something he clearly loved. 

 
For me it’s just very unfair he didn’t get to see how it ends, which sounds kind of dumb when you consider you know, he died and all, but still. It’s something he clearly loved. 
I 100% agree with this. It seems really silly to think about but I can't stop. I am always fascinated with those stories of people in the last days who contact authors, directors, producers etc... to hear or see how something ends before they pass.

I actually spend to much time hoping I will live long enough to see a good Dark Tower adaptation. Part of me thinks that thought will come to me on my deathbed if I am coherent.

 
love you, friend 

In the 11 years, 8 months and 23 days since I lost Mom, I’ve thought of that essay often. In my former way of thinking I wouldn’t go unless 1) it was family, 2) “we were close”, or 3) we had an amazing shared experience. Like the entire paradigm was based on I Me Mine.

Now I consistently go to funerals, no matter how slight the connection. Friends parents I never met. Colleagues I hadn’t seen in 15-20 years ago, classmates or shipmates for whom it’s been even longer.. Church members or neighbors I barely knew.

Sometimes something special happens. Sometimes nothing does. But it’s not about me or what happens to/for me. I go in prepared to either be a blessing or be blessed, but also knowing the simple act has an intangible, unseen value that is often unfelt or unknown.

I know it’s worth it even if my knowledge of the impact remains incomplete.
Was just reading through this thread and came upon BL’s post here.  I have a choice about an upcoming funeral on Tuesday — for someone I’ve never met, but is the SIL of a close friend.  Now after reading this, I’m showing up for the funeral.  Thanks BL, krista and others for sharing the importance of this simple act.

 
I 100% agree with this. It seems really silly to think about but I can't stop. I am always fascinated with those stories of people in the last days who contact authors, directors, producers etc... to hear or see how something ends before they pass.

I actually spend to much time hoping I will live long enough to see a good Dark Tower adaptation. Part of me thinks that thought will come to me on my deathbed if I am coherent.
I always think of this when someone dies not long before their favorite team wins a championship. Really bums me out

 
I officiated a wedding this weekend. First time and was truly surprised to be asked despite being good friends with both. I spent the better part of the next two months working on the ceremony trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. Thought of our friend wikkid many times.

Middle of the ceremony was an opportunity to provide “advice” to the couple. Two were my own that I thought would be meaningful to the couple. The third, which I left for last and stated was THE most important ... “the give is the get ... in friendship .... in love ... in marriage ... in life ... if you follow this one piece of advice, the world has a way of rewarding you beyond anything you can imagine ... the give is the get”.

I had quite a few people ask me about it after and I told them about Dale and how this one random person on a football message board made an impact on me and the way I hope to live my life.

Thanks Dale - I would have loved your assistance in crafting the words for the ceremony but hope you would approve.

 
Came across this one today and it hit me hard.  I've deleted the name of the poster he was responding to, since it could be any of us.

xxx said:  We are here for each other.  I'm struggling at the moment, but its encouraging to see other people post.

wikkid:  G'ahead, struggle. We all need to struggle, it is basically the living motive.  Just don't suffer. No need to suffer whatsoever. If you do, let us help.

 
For me it’s just very unfair he didn’t get to see how it ends, which sounds kind of dumb when you consider you know, he died and all, but still. It’s something he clearly loved. 
I 100% agree with this. It seems really silly to think about but I can't stop. I am always fascinated with those stories of people in the last days who contact authors, directors, producers etc... to hear or see how something ends before they pass.

I actually spend to much time hoping I will live long enough to see a good Dark Tower adaptation. Part of me thinks that thought will come to me on my deathbed if I am coherent.
I really wanted to know who Deep Throat was before I died.  Now that I know, I need a new goal.

And, yes, I think about this stuff, too.

 
Came across some wikkid advice gems today.  @prosopis, these were directed at you, as I'm sure you'll remember.

The reason i ask and the reason i answer is that i'm seeing a lot of deadness out there, people with lives to which they & others once aspired, lives that would sound pretty damn good to most folks across the world, who are dying inside. I'm retired and fairly well hermited, so have dedicated a lot of thought to this. I've come to a conclusion.

For half the world today and and all the world for 99.999% of human existence, a person has had to struggle, elementally fight, to carve life out of this earth for themselves and their families. We are hard-wired for ultimate commitment to survival, to strive with the very core of our essence or die.

Life has lit a great fire within each of us. Couple hundred years ago, we needed every ounce of that to fight, explore, suffer privation, scrape subsistence from the ground. Because humans are smart enough to wonder why they break their backs we gave ourselves glorious reasons for all this. Whether following God's plan, continuing the path of human progress, earning eternal life & limitless reward on the next level of existence, the hope of amassing untold riches & regard, whatever.........the struggle was elemental.

Today, most of us commute, committee & cooperate with forces we may not even respect, never mind admire, because we ended up being able to do a few things well enough to be welcomed into the cycles of economy. We seem to best be able to do this when we act pretty much the way everyone else does, hope that the pluses of marriage & family at least match the minuses, turn 1 or 2 major leaks of individuality into hobbies or perversions & use the delightful array of time-killing boxes to deaden our desire to be moved by any of it.

Not saying any of that is wrong, just that i see sickness in the stasis of it. Our every cell programmed to fight nature to the death in order to thrive, some of us can live an entire life now without really even joining life in any significant way.

'Join up' is the first thing i say to you, prosopis, and all the many other people in this forum alone who have either told us how lonely they are and empty they feel within their own lives or proved to be so with their almost every action. Why sit there, collective you, rooting for teams, sides, religions, parties when you haven't put Team You to the test.

You bend your mind & will to the purposes of companies & bosses who you dont care about and who dont care about you, invest most of your care in love(s), the very nature of which ensures you never get to be right, are intimately plugged into a world which seems determined to go haywire in spite of how basic answers may be. Victory is nowhere real anymore and, beyond food & shelter, it's the thing we need most. I believe the victory most available, necessary & fun to win is the one over yourself. The reward is that, when victory is the fuel for your day, each one becomes more opportunity than burden.

You have but one thing to count on - that no other entity has ever had the chance to be prosopis on July 17, the year of Our Lord 2017. It can change here, it can change now - the only one who can do it is the only one who should. You. 

You could kill yourself, you could have a day like any other, you could climb a mountain, you could buy a saxophone, you could ram a school bus, you could tell off a doosh, you could help someone in need, hold up a liquor store, laugh til you puke, begin something you've always wanted to begin, pay two Asian girls to naughty you up, call an old friend, cry, visit Barranca del Cobre, schedule a physical as the beginning of a greater commitment to wellness, dance naked on a cafeteria table, punch a stranger in the face, see your wife as she was when you fell in love with her & kiss her like you haven't in 15 years, rent a canoe, set yourself on fire

Join your life. Find out why you deserve to be here with the verve of a miner seeking gold; use yourself til you're exhausted in service of beauty, truth, God; see the extraordinary possibilities in everything; help; ask for help; snuff it if you must but not before you've required of yourself & life an amount at least equal to special nature of the gift of life you've received. You need a hand with any o' that, holla. GL -


No prob - i dont even get myself sometimes, when i'm on a roll. I just wanted to make sure, if you are going to begin the process of getting help for your troubles - a good & brave thing to do, btw - that you were challenged at least once going in. You'll encounter a lot of head-patting & excuse-finding in the help profession, but much of righting yourself  is as spiritual & moral as you fear it to be and i wanted you to hear that up front. You defended yourself, surely & sincerely, which gives me hope.

Here's the good news - happiness is easy. One doesn't claw their way to happiness - it defeats the purpose. A person can simply decide to be happy and be just so. It's the things that drag one away from happiness or rob one of the desire to try happiness that are the bugaboo. A lot of the things which deplete a person are the leftover survival devices i talked about yesterday and i wont bore/scare you with that stuff today but, unlike what you expressed about the answers not being available to you yet, solutions are accessable right now.

For reasons i won't go into now, we take everything personally, even stuff of which we are not consciously aware. And a LOT of it is in our files, each with a proportionate amount of rage attached to it. This is a heavy weight to carry, and it leaks. Poisonous, though not deadly, leaks.

Our digestive system works that same way. We stuff any number of things into our mouths, not caring a lick of the consequences, and an army of organs go about dealing with it. The body ends up getting its fuel and the waste ends up being eliminated somehow and we're ready to go again. If the food was not the best possible food, the process somehow causes acid, gas, waste that is sometimes toxic, we deal with it with a burp, burn, fart or grunt and move on. If we poison ourselves too often those systems break down but, when you consider its task, it's pretty damned resilient. But the body is meant to work and usually does if not unfairly burdened.

O, that the brain/mind/spirit worked the same way. I actually believe it was meant to, but that's for another time. Just consider for a sec the amount of bad food the mind takes in in a day. The foolish, rude behavior; the lack of consideration; the chasing of the ridiculous and banal down blind alleys: the frustration of knowing what's right and not being allowed to do it; the confusion of two people being oppositely right about the same thing, the fear & loathing, the hope & hell of it all (there i go again). One hour of regular life is more toxic than all the chili dogs, chips & chocolate frosting you could cram down in any contest.

Does the brain digest that and eliminate the waste? No. Worse, it stores it, and on the same shelf as prayers & love & theorems & poems, no less. The mind is, of course, far more sophisticated than the bowel (in most people). Even more horrid, because of the way we're raised, we take each one of the burps, burns, farts & grunts personally - adding more angst to the pile. Combine that with the lessened number of real connections & quests & conquers to put some honest-to-god triumph next to the blood & bile and we should be wondering why we all aren't starking barkers rather than why we go awry. Just imagine if we took every digestive eruption personally as a life/status-disrupting moment. We'd all drown in puddles of our own tears. Yet we do the psychic equivalent of this every day, hour, minute.

I have been working for some time on a conscious elimination process, simple as saying your prayers (after some time sorting things out, that is), to deal with the garbage of the day and the burdens of life. I'm not finished, have no initials after my name and, as most FFApers will tell you, am quite delightfully mad. I need people to work with on this so i can refine it for public edification. If this appeals to you, PM me. If you need to know more, ask. If it's nutsy garbage, ignore. I wish you well.

 
Came across some wikkid advice gems today.  @prosopis, these were directed at you, as I'm sure you'll remember.
Taking him up on this offer was one of my better decisions. Thanks for bringing this up, I enjoyed reading it and it reminded me of some of the things we talked about.

 
I've stayed away from this thread for a while because apparently my way of dealing with loss (and feelings in general) is to ignore them and hope they go away.  I guess I'm in the denial stage?  Not sure as I've not lost very many people close to me that weren't already in their 90's.

Today I got into re-reading a bunch of our most recent all-time NBA draft thread and there were so many great wikkid moments, I can't even begin to copy them.  It is also the thread where I pissed him off because I was being a D-bag, he put me on ignore and I apologized to him via PM.

I was going to bump the thread as a tribute to him, but the last post in it is simply wikkid saying he was "in" for another tangent draft back in January.  I didn't want to tarnish that ending, so I left the thread as is.

Good grief I miss that guy so much right now.  I have a long PM discussion with him in my inbox where we went back and forth over a year as he tried to get me unstuck from my life struggles.

Absolute gem of a human and I still can't believe he's gone.

 

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