Thoughts

"The road for happiness is proscribed by less distinction." I love the sound and feel of this sentence, but it is quite simply untrue, I hope. Proscribed means banned. Hope is, for more joy, the less we specify, the more we give up and give in to LOVE, deep within our hearts, with each and every encounter, if we can. It's a process, it's not perfect. In fact, the Indigo Girls once said something about less definitive searching, allowing for one to be more defined. How does this magic work? Is that really how powerful love is? I say to you: It is 4 o'clock, no matter how many times you ask, no matter how many of you ask, and no matter that you ask right on top of one another, not listening to each other. If I say it with peace each and every time, in a cheerful, friendly way, it just might work. Let's help one another do this, every day, in every way.
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The TRUTH

If 'freedom' aint free, then freedom doesn't exist. I'm all for supporting people with the guts to sign up for 'dying' because their country's politicians have small penis's and think nothing of sending their country into a downward spiral fighting what they call 'just' police actions, but it's bullfucking dogshit, and everyone and their brother knows this. Either that, or this world is just operating WAY out of hand. And, quite possibly this life is a world of senseless idiotic stupid HURT!
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2 For Today

FRI. APR. 26th, 2013
You're always on my mind. I'll take you there. These 2 tunes are on my mind today, and for you maybe they mean something.
They do for me, as random as they are. Not really, but somehow the brain has called them up and on they play. Not as a mash-up, which, yeah, they're sort of going, but as 2 separate beings occupying my brain-space.

Geez, that sounds like someone in dire need of doctor intervention. Yes, tomorrow, the good ol' Doctor Who can definitely sort it out, what with the Gallifreyan 2 heart dance.
2 hearts. Wonder which one has that little slice of ice in it, which author Graham Greene said every writer needs. Kill your little darlings' Truman Capote once said.

Spring cleaning continues apace, and it's 6:15 now. Time for a swim, I suppose. It's cold there, and must be done. Some things are like that. You will always be on my mind, Young one. And, I'd have to say, I'll take you there, if you'll have me.
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Think I Think How Do They Know This?

Even Vegans eat spiders at night when they sleep. (How do they figure this crap out?) Can everything be simply explained some day? Does it need to be? When faced with the overwhelming, what do we do? Freeze? Reboot. Break it down into manageable components. Begin the beguine, all over again. OK. Good. But let's be honest, the unemployment rate is just that. You can get numbers, math, to argue anything, and still be wrong. You need emotion to set it off. Math isn't absolute or perfect. It can be manipulated to say like logic, semantics, etc., to say whatever you may. Doesn't mean you're right perfect true. It's all relative. One day they may assert, my Dad once suggested, Einstein was wrong. But, it required him to come along and to do his thing, for us to get to where we are. What do I want to say here? Nothing, therefore, I said it.
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Good Night For Now

Good Night everyone! Try not to fuck up the world while I'm gone (to consciousness, in slumber), or, if, in failing that, make it a really bad one. Something so completely heinous it's impossible for me to wake in the middle of it maimed and ragingly righteously pissed, but in sleep, be wasted into oblivion unknown. Thank You. OM!
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Many Tied Tomatoes

O.K. Let's figure this thing out. We've got a boy, Man-tied to Mayo (His.), gets the world; hook, line, and STINKER. Bad p.r. "person", or horrible novelist, in disguise as football player. Just a kid. Stupid subterfuge, nevermind what Stendhal said about robbing a man of his subterfuge, and he goes crazy. This person is a kid, just a kid, and what's viral, is a lot of people are talking, like any press is good press. Got coverage, like Catfish, on us all. And so what does this mean? It's a waste of time. It's way too stupid to be the classic bit of the Magician's, prestidigitation. The clasped hand pointing to the other, opening, which reveals No More COIN. Remember, the hand pointing, has a fist, and the COIN is probably still in it. What's the REAL stinky carp here on the dock, bloated, drying, fly bitten, in the HEAT of topical attention?
Guess like many things, we should all just ignore it, as like most, it soon will pass.
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NEW BREED OF CAT

We see a new age of people. Who do things but don't make such a big deal about it. Single or Married, with or without a significant other. Doesn't make a big deal about the things they believe in. They don't drink or do other drugs and drive. They don't smoke (any thing), but don't make a big deal out of it. If you ask their advice they may give it. If you want to know what they believe in, they'll tell you, in some kind of vague circumspect fashion. And that's about it.

Ian Rankin at Book Soup

It was a boot for me to be able to have the day off and get paid and go see Ian Rankin at Book Soup books. I went by places on Sunset recognizing and calling out names of them and bits of their and my history with just before passing directly in front of them and really reading their names and finding my conceits not. But having reality match my conception. Nice feeling. Peaceful, easy feeling.
Message From Pisgah

SCARECROW DAY

Scarecrow Day. First Tuesday after Thanksgiving. All the Scarecrows all over the world gather together in the field of great reckoning, and self immolate. They're dressed and otherwise appear to be the iconic effigies of all the world's leaders; actors, artists, writers, and musicians. All depending on how their owners originally constructed them. But when they get to the field and at 7 a.m., that first Tuesday morning, on their respective day, they burn. It's not like burning man. It's not hippie meets new age drug. In fact, if anyone goes at all, it is the family. Cold sober units typically. And they get to reflect on this event all day. Hope is, by the Scarecrows, all year, which is the whole point!
Message From Pisgah

Something For The Future

WED. NOV. 7th, 2012
Let's do this bit-by-bit, step by step, inch by inch. Being Careful. Let's see what we think, see what we feel; is it Real, meal after meal? Yeah? No? Then go from there, you know?
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The dynamic must be altered, yes. I agree. At work they ask: How do I win? Change your outlook. Remove the paradigm of winning/losing. Fighting Dying. Oh you don't need to be so serious, it's just a stupid game. Well, don't ask me stupid questions here, where it's too LOUD, and I'm walking in place on this moving walkway, and you're on the ride moving by. I've already lost long ago, but keep on moving anyway. Hope is one day and thenceforth, I'll figure a way to win, by not losing myself to grief over not being able to properly take care of myself in this world, OR, I'll come to the conclusion, I just don't care, and, it just doesn't matter what you/I do here, because ultimately, nothing matters.
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Maybe we have this whole living thing wrong. Maybe we don't go to hell or heaven, but into the next phase. We've seen how life goes first hand, how the world operates, people suffer, find bliss, how dumb and beautiful it can be. Now then it's our turn! We get a world where if there's fifty thousand people who want to be ballerinas, well, then, we have the infrastructure for them, and fifty-thousand ballerinas! And if everyone wants to be a Fire-Fighter, everyone can be a Fire-Fighter. We'll have the fires and life you want need care feel for all of that. And if everyone wants to be Wilt Chamberlain, then we'll all get to have sex with as many women as we need.
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Plan For The Weekend

Eat. Plan for the weekend is to eat. No caffeine, no booze, no cigarettes or other forms of tobacco. And, oddly enough, no sex. At least not in the normal sense of the word. Not how I've been at it. I'm better mentally than before, but still want more. We need to keep on going. Write and Read and Consume massive amounts of water. I need money, and must move on. Damn, you know? Can't keep on like I have. Not unless I find a way to make more money and then do that too...We want to eat. We must sleep in. We might swim. We might make that happen. Hope so. Let's hope and strive to do this.

Proverbial Monkey

The weekends exhaust me. Feel as if I'm shoveling bucket loads of pearls before swine. And still not enough writing or other personal reading writing relaxing me time is done before having to go back to the perfectionist grind, where I have to be absolutely perfect, or transfix anon about every gesture thought word mannerism. (I'm on the train. Fireman. The need is to shovel as fast and efficient as can be. Half the time I'm like the proverbial monkey, humping the football.) Not a pretty sight. Never a good position to be in.
Message From Pisgah

Dream States Waking Nightmares and Other Stupidities

William McKenzie Neal
Dateline: Shell City. 80+ in shade. Breezy. Aeroplanes overhead. Laundry's going on. The backyard otherwise is nice. Too bad that after a time, the neighbors had no dogs nearby, we're hearing a couple of medium sized mutts and tiny Kick Me dogs yappin. Just wish for being indoors in the cool A/C (which we don't have), sippin W.T. 101, macerated mint, crushed ice layers too, as well as a bit of the Sugar In The Raw mixed in. Then we could accomodate Pork Chops, Green Beans, Field Peas, Butter Beans, Bread Rolls, iced tea, and peach cobbler, and or Lemon Meringue pie for dessert. Yeah, and you'd better take some Immodium too, check to see you don't have a criminal record, and try to lose your car keys. Hope and pray that later you wake up in the E.C.J.C., or Ole Miss Library, only to finish that 16 page paper on Molecular Biology, or Foreign Relations. Something.
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Loco for Doco

Out on the front patio now, in the shade, of course. Mike's Limeade. Turkey Burger Sliders. Sweet potato fries. Peach Cobbler and French Vanilla ice cream served by headless automatons, who give great foot massages. The Doctor just left. She says my eyes will come and go, and to forget about my knees. Keep swimming, but don't always insist on going alone, in the dark, and without a stitch of clothing. Too dangerous. "Danger is my middle name." I tell her with a straight face, and she slaps me hard across the cheek. After some table-tennis, (She wins, 2 out of 4 games we play.), off she goes in her new Tidemark Hydrogen powered sedan. {Wonder if she gets it that I LOVE her?}
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Time Is Irreverent

"WAKE UP! He can't remember where he was." --James Douglas Morrison.

Yesterday I saw a small baggy with red watermelon pieces in it. It struck me as odd because just a few minutes before, I witnessed a similar bag with same type fruit, in my meat and cheese drawer at home.
Today, I woke at what I thought was 2:30. What the hell. I get up at 3. I'm awake. Might as well get to it. Later, I noticed the time on the clocks in the kitchen while preparing the meals for the day. It's not even 2!! What the F?!
Needless to say, I ate the watermelon. Plenty of time to digest AND read a comic book, before heading to work to eat the apple, banana, etc. Yeah. Someone ran over that bag of melon yesterday. Dragged it all over that part of the lot. I will be EXHAUSTED come 2 o'clock THIS afternoon.
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Love looking at old pictures of L.A. Here's the corner of Pico and Western a few years ago:

Love looking at old pictures of L.A. Here's the corner of Pico and Western a few years ago:: Love looking at old pictures of L.A. Here's the corner of Pico and Western a few years ago:

Weird Al share old pics.

What I Didn't Do Today...

Usually when we have sex, we want to go brag and get drunk and smoke. Lately, I drive around, (in life in general), and not wanting any thing, I don't do much. It is enough simply to search for something to eat, eat, and buy a thing or four. And, usually more than that, much to my chagrin, but not always. Some times I'm quite happy with my manic spending spree. Yes, I do quite well with deals and organizing my time, getting things done. I like to think my days as a Production Ass (in Hollow-Wood), trained me to sort my trips out, so that I'd get as much stuff done in one stop as most do in 9 to 24. Productive!

Boo-Hoo, Tom's Depressed

Ok so maybe tom's depressed, but so what? Sorry Clint, it's going to take more than everyone of us giving up our Toyota's and Honda's to buy up GM's, to save us now. Syria's on Fire! Israel will sooner or later lash out on Iran, maybe before Summer, and I don't care how many Gung-Ho 'blockbuster' ACTUAL Seal Team Members used in filming, 'let's go kill us some 'enemy' over there', films are made, that I won't endure, when the real evil is within. Patriot Act still going strong. Prisons in the U.S., still being made, they're ready for all of us to revolt.
{From The Handheld}

MAYBE THIS WILL DO IT

My hand's got cracks all the time on the fingers. The local nuclear power plant's got leaks. And, I'm just killing time here, trying to find out why it is I feel so crappy. Oxygen? Lack thereof? I never wanted to...
Can't finish a sentence. Went by hardware store just now. Picked up 2 things. I'm really broke now. But, in my looking and checking things, I may just improve my lot by simplifying my Pad wants needs, and that Pen, I'll just get when I can and not have to worry about...it or anything else really. What am I saying? I can't sit in that chair by the computer and write. My ass hurts. I drift off mentally, can't focus, and I just waste my time. Can't easily realize what it is I want to say or search for, do it, get it done, then get off and Turn everything down, and get some sleep. Desperately need my sleep.
Ah, shit. My ticket. My confirmation. It's all in spanish. I need to call them up and confirm what to do. Get my printer working. (Needs new ink, not a new printer.) Print Pass from Home 72 hours before? And get into LAX, 3 hours ahead of time. Say, it's going to be busy. Oh hey. Oy!
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One Cheap Ugly Thing Turns Into The Other

Don't sleep much because I'm stressing. I stress because I don't sleep. I get depressed and I don't even know it. I'm too stupid to know, that, 'that', is what it is, what I'm facing. (I guess. I dunno.) It's been here all my life.
Think of my friend not so far away, and it's difficult for me to visit. It's too much. There's a psychological 'barrier' as it were with me there and it, and I don't know why. I don't breathe very well all throughout the night.
Even during the day, I stop breathing from time to time, and it adds up. Get busy, do, and it's right, wonderful, but if you mess with my logic, I blow up, typically, on you. Who's at fault? You? Me? My 'physicality'?
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