…and SHIT!
I’ve been watching Cesar Milan: Better Humans Better Doggos the lqst few days. I have never watched his previous hsows but the TSST episode of South Park is one of my favourite and I always thought the principles used to correct Cartman’s behaviour were sound with regard to my incompletre knoweldge of fields like social dynamocs, psychology and anthropology.
This show is great. Everything is our fault as dog owners. Lately my pit Diesel has been barking when I return home. He loves me and eagerly charges into our adventures together, but I think I might have scared him a little bit over the last few months of knowing him (two week long visits before moving here full time this month). I took his mom and he’s seen some violence in a past life.
Arguments with Vallerie have undermined corrective moments, but I think she’s starting to see that letting me go will to will with the dog for certain small things up front will mitigate the need for drastic interventions later. She’s seeing that and that’s good. I think I believe that we can survive any hell so long as we can see improvement over time.
My home here in the desert of Phoenix is a lush and verdant oasis—it’s adjacent to a lush and verdant oasis at least. The city is so inhospitable that shaded greenspaces/parks are so much more appreciated.
Guitar playing is going well. I get out a lot in the heat and play. I stick to the shade but I see myself getting very comfortable playing in the sun. I think I gotta start dressing like an Arab—light, blowy linens.
Cesar just finished helping a family of women who had survived domestic abuse and who had no control over the many dogs. They learned courage and that trickles down to the dogs.
Trickle-down sounds good. I like it phonetically. I picture a crisp clear mountain stream that I can drink plentifully from. And maybe that’s why trickle down economics didnt’ work like ppeople might have been led to think it would: if there is a stream you still have to get up, and get out and get after it. Entertain rich people. Dance for them. Debase and humiliate yourself for them and you access that stream.
Psych
Everybody’s fucking dying, but I can live. I can make it if I try. I can get through the wire like Jor-el launching Kanye in a pod from Krypton (“Farewell, my son…”)
“Here’s your one chance Fancy don’t let me down”
My wife is having adult career frerustrations and I feel woefully inept to help. It doesn’t help that I’ve been using cannabis products because I tend to look to expansively ad holistically at acute problems. Not that I’m wrong, but not necessarily what someone want to hear when they are venting; not simply a solution, byt a solution which would also require them to look in ward—especially from their musician/blogger husband.
Stay thirsty,
-Dre
Write-Errantry 