Then there was this woman on the street, short, fat, sqat waddling thing, breasts out to here and a big plastic shopping bag just a hanging on down, moving slowly east along Talbert, alongside the Cemetery, where a friend of mine's mother is buried.
I'm tired of seeing these people on the street and feeling sad or sorry for them. Look at them, these losers. That's a judgement call. Maybe they're not sad or lost.
ON the bus, looking out a window, I've no expression on my face at all, but what do I look like to them? Any one passing by? I could look sad or mad or be a "LOSER" too. But au contraire, I'm as happy as a clam, lark, shipmate on the high seas with tons of dollars to my name....though I'm poor and stupid; often lame and thoughless; and or otherwise scrambled; lazy, and just aesthetically; can't figure out on how to do some things: I'm HAPPY!
It was too easy to contemplate, the other morning on the bus my thanksgivings...job, life, house, clothes, car, etc. Pretty much all a fella really needs, eh? No gal, no problem. But of course it's: there are so many people in the fructose laden world, the corn syrup system, that don't have squat. Who wish they could squat: but no letters in the mail, no posts on the net, no smart phone with system to boot....tis vapid nutty life....no. None of these things and so many more we can consider, most people just....don't have any of these things and when they've no livelihood either? No house or people who love them?
Why, I'm sitting there on the bus, a slight quick turn of the corner of my mouth up to the heavens goes before it could even be registered. The long slim green grasslike plant fronds blow in the wind on the middle of the street planter area when the bus passes....reminding me of the same outside my window in S.F. on the courtyard out my window at Webster Manor, same such plant material shown underwater in the film by Andrey Tarkovsky: SOLARIS. Ah, yes. How sweet it is. Life is good. I am happy and not one soul knows. Most of the time I am.
It is too easy to be happy here. See, when I get vexed is when how easily things fuck up. That's when I get mad, and that is all the time I could say. I was freaking out the other day. Things falling in the piles I have and was adding to in my room, my laundry, etc. Getting a hat or pen from somewhere and then having the damn thing cause an avalanche of shit falling...fucking pissing me off. "Stop, fucking, falling, a-part!" I yell and scream. But otherwise, yeah. I'm happy. It's too damn easy to be.