Happiness Is What? |2021

I don’t know there is a way to define happiness. What are the requirements? What are the parameters? Who is measuring this shit? How is it quantified? Who determines this?

And this is why I do not know or understand.

I think of happiness as a faint memory, a word used in the lexicon, not a destination nor feeling, but an ideal.

Yup, this is a discussion about “Infinite Sadness”. Not Blind Faith & Trust, The Difference KINDA explained |2021

Fine, it’s supposed to be about happiness. Recently The Reverend CD asked me “Have you ever tried to define “happiness” for yourself? I mean, what would happiness look like for kastle?”

Fuck! That’s a good conversation to be had between great, great friends. Behind closed doors. Fuck you, clowns. Oh, the rest of you non-clown people, y’all ain’t no problem.

Help! I’m falling, I’m crawling
I can’t keep away from its clutch
Can’t have it, this habit
It’s calling me back to my home

I have a thought to add, it’s about love and happiness. I’ve noted before that my ex-wife said to me “You can’t love someone else until you love yourself” as she walked out the door.

And true to that, I’ve never loved anyone, besides my cats over the years, and it shows. I’ve never had that gleam in my eyes when looking at someone, willing to fight to the death for them. Willing to elevate them over me.

Willing to do whatever it takes to protect them. Willing to sacrifice for them, of myself or otherwise, put me in harm’s way. Nope, fuck that shit. Because I do not love myself enough for that.

To whit, pets can bring you happiness. And that’s why I have cats. They love me because I provide them with a roof over their head, I feed them good quality food, I provide them with good quality water, be it filtered in their bowl or for the time to time they get water in the shower or tub.

They get toys. They get scratchers. They get condos. They get belly rubs. They get yearly exams they don’t appreciate. In fact, my penguin gets monthly checkups cause he’s 17, and a pain in the ass.

I love my cats and I know they love me. I interact with them, I am a part of their life. I’ve been at home for 2+ years now, working from home or not working. I love being around them because they are my buddies.

They get to be on camera for work, typically sleeping. Takao is with me nearly 24/7. If he was the pimp he will become, that’d be 25/8/366 (Thanks Cookie Monster Punk)

What can I say? I’m a smark, still.

But, what is happiness? Happiness is something you love, without effort. Something that is fluid to you, something you desire to obtain, that will give your soul something of a rush.

I think Pharrell Williams nailed it. And I think Weird Al nailed it even harder.

Fuck! Weird Al is so god damn amazing. Props. Super Props. That mother fucker makes me happy. His polka remixes, god damn he is the mother fucking man.

Music can bring you happiness. Especially when you have an amazing source, and even better DAC, and a fucking WooAudio WA6 with the best tube (IMO) for the WA6, the Sophia Princess.

That fucking tube, that brings happiness like you wouldn’t believe. And here are some pics that should give you an idea of how cool they were.

And FWIW, these pics are from when I had a WA6, for which I had to sell to pay rent during 2020/2021’s shit show fucking world. Fuck those communist assholes! That’s right, you know whom I’m speaking of.

Let’s be real, there is little that will actually make this guy happy. There is no such thing as happiness, there is no gift that life can bring (that isn’t a cat).

And I turned to Takao as he meowed to me, his purring so loud you could hear it the next zip code over. I knew that in this instance, I’ve said it to myself a number of times over, this mother fucker is the future.

This guy can dethrone the great ones. He could settle scores with No Winners Only Losers |2021, Monster, My 1st Ragdoll & The Supreme Commander, hell he could even surprass the big guy.

Let’s recap here. Cats, check. Audio, check. Humans, (crickets). The Reverend CD would expect nothing less. He would expect my answer to be the above. But, there is a swerve.

I’ve rented houses for the last 12 years. I didn’t want to, but I did. I did because that’s what had to happen, what needed to be done. It’s a hard life to move six (6) times in twelve (12) years. Nothing is ever home. Home.

Yup, I’ll reiterate that. Nothing is ever home. Until now, I have not known what home is. I’ve not known what it is to lay your head upon your pillow, under your roof. Not someone else’s.

Take from that what you will. I’m headed home, to my home. To where I can say, not just 127.0.0.1,

Home! It’s what I long for
My home, where I belong!

My home, she keeps calling me. She pulls at me. And now, now I obey. I want my home, my home.

And I want that place, that place where I belong. That place for I long. That place that brings my happiness… she keeps calling me there. Home. My home, my home.