Well I've Got A New Printer

Couldn't sort out my old printer. Easy to use when it worked...and I'm not all sure that this new one's going to work either, but when I've opened files, they've printed...so...an old used printer from a lady friend I know, works fine, but maybe that's because I've got the same printer company as my computer...TIME will tell.

--

Can A Delivery Man Be A Turnip?

What The Hell?

‎"That's great, it starts with an earthquake, birds, snakes, an aeroplanes, Lenny Bruce is not afraid..."

   --R.E.M., It's The End Of The World, As We Know It.

   Sure, Lenny Bruce was full of Heroin at the end of it, for him, so, what did he have to fear? And there's nothing now, for him. Of course he's not afraid. For the rest of us, the living, we have plenty, and it's not all right and most of us don't feel fine. We're perturbed, angry, annoyed, and pissed off. Well, I used to say to an old friend of mine: at least it's better than being pissed on. Well, unless you're into that kind of thing, and I'm not, for one, I'll tell you that right now. What the hell?! 

 Powers that be want you afraid. They want major disasters of weather (east coast), and earthquakes/fires, (west coast), in order to keep us under thumb. 

 What are we going to do about it? What are we going to do?

Looky Here What I Brought YOU!

Harris Maccabee

 And just Who IS this insensitive prevaricating author, HARRIS MACCABEE?

The latest drivel he's "written":

‎And bloomers? (P.S. They used to wear them when I was a kid. Had this post thing with a circle on top. Hanging down the circumference were these chains at certain spaced intervals. At the bottom of the chains, were rings. There was a board, set at an angle in the sand. Each kid would walk up the board and then jump out to the first ring, and when able, reach out for the next, and keep going until the end, which brought the said young athlete to almost complete the circle/ring, where the board was again. Then they'd drop into the sand. There was a sand pit where this post was placed in the center. All the cute girls with bloomers on under their dresses were watched by the young boys in the 1960's, very carefully.)

------

 Just WHAT is THAT all about?

The Way of the World Or, This is what's happening or not, with THE MUTINEER

And for those of you keeping tabs on THE MUTINEER: RANTS, RAVINGS, and MISSIVES from the MOUNTAINTOP 1977 -- 2005, by Hunter S. Thompson (i.e. NONE of you!!!) Amazon.com doesn't post its availability 2030 (That was the first to go.) And, it no longer lists its publication date as March 1, 2014 and just indicates it's "unavailable", and, there are "unreacheable" parties which "have" it, but are asking for 4, 5, 6 hundred dollars, and at least 5 dollars for S&H. It's just fucking insane!!

THE MUTINEER: The Latest

https://m.facebook.com/?_rdr#!/story.php?story_fbid=10201668114007411&id=1316331397&refid=8&_ft_=qid.5990847026616408086%3Amf_story_key.-9206149680574861755&__tn__=%2As

Urban Dictionary: adjective

Urban Dictionary: adjective



 I wondered if "shit" was an adjective. So, I looked it up and found this.

In Solitude

‎There is gunfire off in the distance now. Two shots. In soledad/solitude, these things too pass before us, everyone.

Book News - THE MUTINEER: Rants, Ravings, Missives from the Mountaintop, by HUNTER S. THOMPSON

 You'll not likely get any other heads up any where other than here, so, for those discriminating taste buds, we offer the latest no news news.

 Saturday, March 1st, 2014, the book of letters, etc is expected to be released. Those of us who showed initiative to get it when it was first announced in 2010, will not be given any special privilege. We won't all of a sudden have a copy Saturday morning jet-post or in the afternoon by slug sailor. No. It will, if it comes at all, be delivered, my best guess, Wednesday, of next week, which puts it 4 days after publication and possibly in stores already, what few will be, in some major markets, and, you can forget about getting it in, say, Mississippi, unless Lemuria in Jackson has something going for it, or Books on the Square, in Oxford will. No. Not even in Orange County, California, probably...maybe the Huntington Beach or Newport, Fashion Island, Barnes and Noble's will carry a copy or three. But where to put it on the shelves? Where indeed! 

 Nonfiction. Not to be confused with anything such as like the Vegas book, which was listed as, but really was mostly Fiction. Doesn't matter, and ultimately, nothing does, but damn it all, I want some news on the thing now. And I want it delivered Saturday afternoon. I want a letter, an email rather, in today's box, telling me, my book has shipped! So far, nothing! Which suggests to me, my Wednesday guess may just be correct. And, I could be wrong. It could hit next Saturday, after the Penguins / Ducks game and wanting nothing to do with the week ahead of that, but...we plod on, mercilessly.

AND checking my ORDER-March 6, and by the Monday following, March 10th, is the "it should be in your hands" delivery by 8 p.m.

It's just frustrating. I've done 2 of these now. No one can find them by looking. I posted on someone's Goodreads post and subsequently deleted them and even that was a major hassle. Back and forth emails with the Goodreads ambassador there. Terrible thing. Why Why Why? It's a wonder anything gets done at all. How can anyone legitimately believe in conspiracies? Things are too easily inadvertently lost or failing that (hah) fucked up.

The Mutineer: Rants Ravings and Missives from The Mountaintop

 The book, by Hunter S. Thompson, a book of letters and the lot, of his work or writings, from 1977-2005, is, we hope, due to drop, this Friday, March 1st, 2014. 

 It was first announced, if memory serves, in 2010, when I first put an order in on it, in the online bookseller-plus-company, named after a rapidly disappearing jungle. Well, the publication date did the same thing, and we all felt raped, cheated, put upon. And now on its eve, we still feel a bit off, to say the least. There's nothing about its release in Vanity Fair, there's nothing about its release in Rolling Stone, and only the barely workable goodreads.com site for readers (frustrated, would be writers), to review books they read, has a thing on it. And the U.K., book seller plus site. And it's bitter and sad in that department too.

 Some suggest a lawsuit is/was involved. Hell, who knows? And, "Who Killed Hunter S. Thompson?" a book of essays by known associates and admirer's, is yet another thorn in this writer's side. Why can't it be brought out as well? Especially now? Nothing. There is nothing there. Ron the editor / Publisher at Last Gasp Press has told me repeatedly it's in the final stages, just waiting on Hinckle's essay to be finished. Well, dump on that! 

 Rumors abound it and the Mutineer book have both been out already, and I can't believe a word of it. Garbage, Nonsense, you people can't be trusted. None of you, and because of a lawsuit probably, some kind of gag order. Not even Simon & Schuster's idiotic website can cull the thing, and they're the publisher for hell's sake!!

 Wife Anita Thompson's website, the Gonzo one, nothing. Off the Web, for a damn long time. All a part of the demented plan for sure. Let's kill this project. Well, a-men, bruddah. You did. 

 I hope the book arrives and I enjoy it. Bet it won't arrive until Wednesday of the first full week of March, but I'll enjoy it what I can nonetheless. It's been a bummer that's for sure.

SO

 SO. Remember that album from that rich guy who used to be with another group which went on to be gigantic when compared to him and his work, eventually? 

 Remember when in grade school or something it was, SO? Such an insult? Some girl or guy professing their interest, would be so floored, just by one, simple, curt, response, by the single person audience being told, some heartfelt emotion: SO?

  So she is gay. How brave. And the gay comic is dying, of cancer. How sad. 

   What's really important, we miss. People are living. 

   What is it about sex, their preference, and capability to announce it to the world and its capacious and ravenous appetite to regurgitate the news? Who cares? What business is it of ours? And, if they're dying of some horrible disease, wouldn't you think a person would want it kept private? And, for that matter, their sexual peccadilloes as well?

SO?

 

I Wonder As I Wander

‎ The only way to guess or even try to figure things out is to wonder as you wander. Do something and after a time you'll want care and think of nothing but anything else. What can you do about it? Nothing. You can't do anything with, to, for, about, any of it, regardless.

Massacre

It was a massacre. They did it sloppy and quick. Shotgun. Hand Gun. Sub-Machine gun. If one guy and this dog had not survived (The man from injuries sustained from the slaughter did later, after telling authorities: who, what, where, when, how, succumb.), the crying dog alerting folks earlier than they would have been, due to its wailing for its dead master, alerting new, post scene event witnesses. But you know they all died horribly in their own way, did the killers. At least, you tell yourself that. And the killed, were thugs from some other gang(s) too. Bad guys, no doubt. But so what? Still killed. Killing. Dead. Not coming back. Brutally butchered. Love gone horribly wrong. Acts of love taken to extreme. Love for the gang, actions of loyalty to the bosses, love twisted all out of purportion. You know they were scared, afraid of being killed by cops if caught in the act, or stopped by others...they couldn't even kill the damn dog, idiots. You do a thing like that, you shoot the dog too. If you go beast, brutal, you do it all the way. Chickenshit Pansies!! Yeah, easy to say, but it's true. What kind of horrible person writes this? Someone without love? Who does such a thing as that? Killing other people? In a warehouse room? On Valentines Day!

2nd Month, A Realization

THUR. FEB. 6th, 2014

 Two Zero One Four. Who'd a thunket? We're here, in the Second Month of twenty-fourteen!!! Isn't it exciting?! I think so. Funny though is it how the daily grind to get past another sunrise how dull turgid it quickly becomes. Terrible thing. Let's reflect on how grateful we are to be here alive and to notice any old thing. At very least it may be the best we can be or do. Shrug shoulders. Move on. Oy, smile. Grin wryly. Sigh. Be at rest with peace.

‎

Superior Bowle Le

 The Big foot ball game in America is today or yesterday and tomorrow for some. After work I'll be missing only just first bits, and wondering how the folks back home are doing as I feel my way across the field in my mind at Puh-sod-inn-uh, the Rose Bowl, back in...86? 87 maybe. The Steelers vs. The Rams. Up With People, did the half time show. Ushers handed out squares of mirror mylar for us to be a part. I was young, sober, shouting: This Game Is Fixed!, and people were turning around and then looking at one another saying, 'You know, he's probably right.' Of course I was, but so what?‎

 I'll be sober again by the time after work I reach the house. No one will be yelling or betting on the plays, point spread, or winners. It will be a dull puppy trot. I mean, I feel for both teams. I want Seattle. I'd like Peyton to win and then quit football for good. I don't want to hear the crap when or if Seattle loses, in the way of excuses. I just don't. I have a feeling there will be a lot, if they do lose. (They won't, right?) Anyway, who cares? The toughest defense, will it reign again? Or will it lose and break that? And who will be traded or quit after this game, never able to fully realize next year's possibility with their championship/division winning team going all the way next year, because they could, but, won't. The network has made damn sure there aren't any more Green Bay/Steeler Lombardi sucking teams 3 and 4 years in a row. That shit is long over. No more horse or barn for that show. They killed the dog on that one. Too bad. I kind of liked stuff like that. Back then it really meant something to be with a team to the end. Now, it's just an endorsement or broadcasting deal post game scars. 

FRIDAY'S NEWS IS NO NEWS, NOT REALLY

 We're off doing our own thing. We're not helping one another.

 Secret revealed, truth, be told. We can do no such thing. We can't do either very well. We just make some noise, splash around. Try as we may/might-we hardly make any sense (of it) before all time, sense of place, whatever, what have you, falls and, it's over--done--you die.

 Hang the sense of it. Purpose meaning reason answer(s), be damned. Fuck it. Fuck it because it's there or here. Get on with it. Live as best you can and then die. Don't worry. Be not concerned. It doesn't matter. Take it not upon yourself to care too much, too deep(ly), because there is no way of knowing, ultimately, for sure, not here, not now, not in this. And if ever there is. If in death you'll know, then that's for then. It's not for this 'now'. And there's never actually reason to rush or hurry to, for, of, by, whatever. Just to BE, is plenty.

Does Not Match The Run Time

Yeah, getting errors about this but you know, this blog is easier to operate easier than livejournal, easier than tumblr (which looks the best) and easier than wordpress. I am a writer therefore I have no money and am highly stressed and sensitive and I just want need it working and easy to work as well, in all formats on all machines. So, it looks like this year I may just flush the hell out of all of them but this one. And if I can you know remember to email from you know, any of my 2 addresses, to this easy to get into the post from the email, having the address and having this site recognize the sender and having it post with out gobbly-gunk on it as well like tumblr is doing of late when I post photos there...if if IF IF IF, i'll have a merry groovy new year!!!

Evening New Year

Happy New Year, ya bloody wankers! Nepal and half of Russia are already there. And since no one really takes you serious on this thing (unless of course they want to criticize and belittle your thoughts, prayers, meditations) I'm determined tonight to be in bed asleep well before midnight and all of ya's! I'm going to get messed up with a painted red haired lady, smoke some cigars, have a few beans, and a chocolate macaroni salad apple pie. (P.S. On New Year's Day I'm going to wake up, grab myself a beer for breakfast, and listen to the Doors, on my out door speakers, at FULL Volume, while I swim, and probably drown.)

What I Did Today After Work

‎Tumor has been removed from the Mumster's visage. And the other spots on back and shoulder seem cool too. Catching some 2nd Hand Skunk weed smoke here Norwalk style before perusing the latest bit from RALPH STEADMAN! Regency 8 has FOR NO GOOD REASON. And so for that, the very same, I'm here to watch this Documentary. The girl asked pointedly if I was aware of the fact. And I said, oh yeah, very much so. Big Fan, etc. Norwalk. Nothing to do. Same thing. Redundancy. Skate in the parking lot between blunts in yer 64 Impala, I suppose. I couldn't do it. Makes me sick. (Both all everything.) Hello, Big Brother. Blow a doobie for me. Catch y'all later at ELBOWS, in Cerritos.

Rants of The Archer: I Love Notebooks

Rants of The Archer: I Love Notebooks


 Interesting stuff. But I want to be able to BUY some Sterling notebooks off the web myself. Lined paper or if they have it, graph!

You Big Banana Head!

THUR. AUG. 29th, 2013

  AND, explain to me again why we have to take Syria? It's not the same old boy oil network thing again designed in the guise of humanitarian effort like that Police Action in Vietnam? When we're supposedly only in Vietnam to stop the spread of communism and finally just said well, we lost the war and won the region, the ideology, and about bankrupt everyone. But we weren't in Laos or Cambodia or anywhere else over there, either, were we? No. Bullshit! We were there. We were in the Philippines and crusing the coasts in the China Sea, to be sure.

 Who was it who said the warring leaders must meet in an area where the public will witness them with socks filled with manure, and they hit and hit and slap one another till a draw is made. Or they languish after sex like in a pillow fight, and smoke THC oil with vape smokers, and later at a party smirk or go their separate ways. Why can't we leave this shit alone? I didn't vote for one administration to get into another war just to foist it off onto another at term's end. Fuck this shit!

What Monsters Are

Monsters Fairies Goblins don't exist. They're just stories we tell one another and our children to explain events and our own peripatetic motivated behaviors. 

Dark Cool Morning In July

It was a dark cool morning that Saturday in July. Very dark in the east. A lone jet slowly flies by somewhere above the cloud layer. The occasional clump of a door off stage left or off right. A car sighs by, then another, from a different direction. Suddenly a loud screeching whine is announced. What in heaven is that? Someone just open their garage door, going to wash their car now? Wait. It's going to rain. Just park it out on the driveway for a few hours, after the grocery shopping, while you sit inside and read, or potter about in the backyard, with your boots and shorts, t-shirt, and hoodie.

A Dream

WALKING along the something river trail, one I'd done before, but didn't know or couldn't recall how after only going over a rather steep short freeway bridge, like the one over the 5 freeway in Burbank, to the mall to the east of the interstate, on victory Blvd or some such, was found, just on the other side of the mall, this wilderness area.

 In it, on a trail, a bit of a depression in the path, some mud and water I was careful about stepping around as much as I could, I was on my current phone, writing, I suppose, people came up to me to inform me there was a man on a crossroads, and I can't recall the names, with white hair, who was hurt, bleeding, from the mouth. I found him as I approached, he spit something large and white out his mouth. It was thought by me, to be a tooth. I decidedly recalled where in general it fell, and was mindful to pick it up and maybe keep it, in order to be saved. But this man not all with it upstairs, in distress, was asked a number of questions like do you know what day it is? Who the president is? What's your name? No. He was asked, did you fall? Did someone hit you? Are they still here? I was flustered as I wasn't getting much response and there was no help coming.

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.
Delivered Via Akasha

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!
Delivered Via Akasha

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.
Delivered Via Akasha

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.
Delivered Via Akasha

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!
Delivered Via Akasha

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.
Delivered Via Akasha

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?
-------
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.
--------
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.
---------
Delivered Via Akasha

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.
Delivered Via Akasha

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?}
Delivered Via Akasha

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.
Delivered Via Akasha

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!
Delivered Via Akasha

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'?
Delivered Via Akasha

HERE

Seems to me, I've got a title on this blog with such a heading. Well, this one's different. I've not much time and even less to impart, what, I've not even considered beforehand. Oh well. Done.
Delivered Via Akasha

How I Wish

Left our party early. Dunno why exactly. Ate well, up to a point, and then I ate crap, and had to leave, big time. I felt like crap. So sad lonely tired. Didn't know just what to do. My eyes were weepy. Had to leave. Didn't care. Just, left. Didn't say any thing to any one, and I don't think any one noticed. Felt like a ghost at my own funeral, or wake. Sad. Terrible. Ineffectual. How I wish I could have rewound the thing, started over, in a great mood, and enjoyed myself. Couldn't Can't Didn't Won't Don't. How I wish...nothing. Nothing now. Now I don't care. I'm here, I want some great food and good company, but I don't care. I want to write all the words down in order, that I thought about exactly as they came, this morning. I don't want to make something else up. I want exact, what I had, to come flowing, through pen, I like, exact, and know, and KNOW I know. The End.
{From The Handheld}

Simple Fix

And so, to fix the thing, because it didn't say or tell me directly in an email: Hey, we're changing the way you email mobile, I had to go in and find out for my self. Well, I changed the address in the Contacts file, and hope is, I won't have to keep now answering my computer's prompt here for which address? Because I deleted or changed the old one. So, how do I do that? Keep the BB here from asking me which one? I typed it already, and it popped out both with a window, asking...ah well, as long as the site accepts my addresses. That's the main thing. I went into the web site settings and selected Post Immediately for the options to these emails I send. And then just changed, but I guess maybe I shouldn't have, because now and maybe forever it will ask? Well, it wasn't on there, the secret words box, a box literally said that, and I was considering, well, let's think of something clever to put in there? Do I need to? What was there before? So. Here we go. Post!
{From The Handheld}

I Would Love To Be Able To

Kick people in the face, in the head, whenever they make you feel uncomfortable. They probably deserve it, and they have NO right making You, Mr Wisdom, Miss Innocent, out of sorts. A good quick blow to the noggin, which puts them out, allows for slow memory recovery, or none at all, is just what all these idjit-galoots deserve. Where do they get off, you know? Obviously not at the previous stop, which is where they'd be (Away from your proximity.), if they'd gone and done the sensible thing. But, they're not sensible folk, are they? That's why they're in your face, getting frustrated, then taking it out on you. Stupid.
Delivered Via Akasha

IT'S TIME!

OK. Enough! Time to END the Patriot Act. Stop all the fecking feckless corn-fed dog-shiite policies (foreign and domestic), and get back to business. Real Good Business. Good Neighbor Policies, etc. Do it. Do it Right. Do It Right NOW!!!

Facebook vs Twitter

The action is on Twitter. People are funnier. Both tend to ignore you however, unless you're super clever, or insulting.

THIS IS THIS

This is this, this is this. What the hell does that mean? This is this? It's not something else, Stanley. Not something else.
The Deer Hunter. A movie by Michael Cimino, was a real nut-cracker for people when it came out. Real good flick. American's dealing with Viet Nam, the war and how it affected us, in a small Pennsylvania town. Yeah. Impact. Crazy. Damn. Good film. Should see it again. If you've not. You should. It's not meant as any disrespect for any one who has served in the Military. It's just about people and their dealing with the crap of life. Real good, even or in spite of the dramatics of the piece. I mean, it is a movie after all. Every thing in that form, or book or play has a sort of arch drama to it...heightning things, presenting ideas emotions, trying to get keep you involved. Some times things work. Some times they do not. I tell ya, this one for the most part all works. Pretty much. Enjoy. The Deer Hunter.

The Last Hour, A DRAG!

That last hour before your parentals left for the weekend to leave you alone, was always a drag, completely the worst. You did yourself no favor by starting in early on your misdeeds, or, even waiting 45 minutes. Your best bet was to sit quietly or take a shower and clean your room, even then waiting at least 1\2 hour after they left, just to be sure.
Delivered Via Aether

STOP IT ALREADY!!!

OKAY! Right then. No more confessional CEO AD’s on TV, saying how we’re human, behind you, and every thing’s going to be okay. Sure, there’s plenty of oil in the U.S., in the North of America, but so what? For all that steam processing to get the shale out of the ground and into something useful, it’s going to kill us 4 thousand times over. And, 2030 is not that far away, right? We won’t have the infrastructure, the biosphere to subsist, much less exist. STOP IT ALREADY! And stop killing people over seas just to get oil in the guise of we’re doing this for democrazy. Whose? Yours? Mine? OURS? Certainly not THEIRS! That’s imperialism, insanity! STOP IT ALREADY!!

Why do we have to pay good money out for people who just can’t live alongside one another? People who say they’re so damned oppressed and crucified, HA! In the court of public opinion, that have camps for others they say are always hitting them first, and, we’re only retaliating because they bombed us. Well, who has them in Camps? Sections of the city you supposedly control and maintain with guns and razor wire? F-THAT, and F-YOU!! STOP IT ALREADY! I say the whole place is holy. Okay. Right. On that we agree, right?
Okay. FENCE THE PLACE OFF. KICK EVERY ONE OUT! NO ONE IS ALLOWED IN OR OUT, PERIOD! Install 20’ tall fencing, topped with glass and barbed wire that is electrified, and that if some one so much as goes within 10 feet of it, they’re reduced to ash, much like those “Ground Snakes” fire works you can still get at or around fireworks times in the U.S.A. Yes, you’re ground snakes, dark gray ash material. Vaporized I’d like to see. Lasers on turrets doing the trick, auto-magically. It’s holy after all, right? Right! Stop it already! We’re borrowing money from China to exist. We’re invading other countries like cysts or cancerous lesions, it’s crazy. WHY? To root out terror, evil? We’re the terrorists! We’re the EVIL! It’s US! Why are we going in for their oil? To bankrupt them? It’s bankrupting US, dumb-shits! Stop It Already!!

Thought I Was Going To Sierra Nevada

Went on a trip today. That's about the size of it. Went on a trip today and while I thought for sure the GOLD LINE Metro Rail was finished and was going to go the whole route, I went what I could and spent not a lot of money, but had one hell of a day just riding trains.
First a Japanese light rail Vehicle. Then, an Italian one. Next came the Deutsche, or German one...and that was the nice clean (newest) bugger of all three rail Vehicles that Los Angeles Metro Rail has. Quiet as well. By far the most quiet of the three. Most clean and new things are. But not all. Some clean and new things don't work worth a crap or damn or whatever. But not any of these trains. They ALL worked quite well, regardless of where they were "from". The Japanese trains had seats made in Canada. I don't know exactly where the others came from. Doesn't matter. Same bit of ugly multi-colored fuzzy carpet on the backs and seats. Majorly Dodger blue with colored balls on them, the colors of the various trains, and on the maps and route indicator placards, there are round colored circles on them with the same color scheme. Coincidence? DEFINITELY! They didn't plan this crap, no freaking way!
Guess I'll drive to Temecula tomorrow...or something like that. Maybe not. I'll let you know.

The Man With No Point

NEED seven 8 or at least three beers right about now. Acually 9 hours of sunlight just like this and this much warmth. I don't need any noise, just the ringing in my ears. I don't want any one calling me but for to come over and put some serious fox on my pox. I don't know otherwise. She won't call. Never did. But how is it she was insanely intense on me? Laughing, throwing her head back. What did she think? Who am I? That's what I was considering. Who am I? What am I doing here and when am I going to go back? When will I be able to? It's depressing, I tell you. All I want to do here is sit and read, and I can't even do that!

Sam Juan Hill

‪‪  "What in Sam Hill has gotten into you?" My Mother used to say. And "Jimminy Cricket!"
I consider 'ON' would be more apropos, no? What ON Sam Hill...if it's a Hill, and not...what, a person? Right. So, you know, San Juan. That was the Hill they stormed 'ON', right? WRONG! It was another next to it, a hummock, [Kettle Hill] that sounded less interesting, and so San Juan it was. Like, "He's Dead, Jim. He's dead." Okay. Proof! You don't need it. Take my word for it, all right? We don't do that kind of thing around here. Well, well, yes, in fact we do. But so what? When you go to get your passport, you get money to the original source, and they sort of make an original for you. And that's not a long form, and no one bitches and moans about it. In time your passport arrives, and these days, with an RFID. You could get a long/record of ... but that wouldn't be necessary. Because it just isn't. The long thing is something else. Part and parcel of your birth record, but so what? Jimminy Cricket! People, there are more important issues at stake. We're killing in Afghanistan; Cambodia, Laos, Paris, Paraguay, Iran, Syria, Iraq; wherever there's oil, right? People are being beaten at Sporting events for no good reason...and, as if there were a good one? What then? It's a Sporting event. We're all here/there to watch a show. Leave one another be. What in or on Sam Juan Hill, has gotten into you, onto us?‬
Delivered Via Aether

COLD

Ate Chicken Fried Steak, Green Beans, Mashed Potato and gravy. Had 4 small dinner rolls and some iced tea. Yet, am cold. I should be plenty warm, but I'm cold. It might be that I have a tiny abrasion on my skull, something to cry about, because my skull has been on fire these past few days, but nothing I put on would stop the itch. Tried several sprays and aloe-tea tree mix salves, and just nothing has done it...except caffeine, had a lot of late and that's even helped my pulled muscle or what as that on my right side, what pop-popped a week ago I can't say, but it's on/from a side I've had problems with from time to time, leaning over and bumping things and causing pain for about a month, which takes its time to abate. Whatever. Who cares? I scraped the skull just before going in for our meal out on the town this evening. Oh well. Hockey game in 25 minutes. Wish I had a beer and someone to have sex with. A large beer. An average sized, good-looking woman, who knows what I want, and can take care of me, with minor intervention on my part. I enjoy a smart woman, I must say.
Delivered Via Aether

There We Go

There we go. Had a pot of coffee yesterday, last night in fact, and STILL went pretty much right to bed. I've not had a pot of coffee (about 4 or 5 cups on this one), in years! Last I did that, I was up all night, walked to Hillsdale Shopping Center from my home in Foster City, and had the worst diarrhea anyone has ever known. It was two pots of espresso beans, and I was all by my self trying to write or not be bored or something. Dangerous either way, I tell you!
Went asleep last night with a pain in my head that visits today as well, and a pain that jumped on my chest at the last minute before slumber. (Chest pain, indigestion, is not evident now.)
I had been up super late the night before, and got up fairly early, and so I was going up doing most of the day with friends and some coffee, not a whole lot, but had some booze as well. 3 small beers, one, a Dos Equis 'amber' (headache inducer I think, but allergies do it most), and a Pacifico, which I enjoy more, then a pint bottle of extra hoppy stuff from Coronado, CA.
Then, later on, some Laprohaig whisky, and a Nat Sherman cigar. I only had a small snifter glass of the hard stuff, and a cube of ice with that. The cigar was good and bad, and I smoked it furiously as far down as I could. Tasting wet nasty-assed dirty tray flavored every now and again. Oh, well!
Couldn't concentrate or even relax much by myself then to watch some TV I'd recorded. I deleted several after only a few minutes. Was so bored. It's okay, but my headache...persists. Wish I could just you know, get on a plane or train in first class and have phone and tablet I want need and service that's as advertised, and just read and write and post away! I have so many too many fricken things to read, and not enough people to read me, or pay my way through this wonky syrupy sludge of an inexplicable, confusing existence. Enjoy!!
Delivered Via Aether

HEADACHE

HEADACHE. I mean HEADACHE. Wish it was because I've not had a cup of coffee for three days in a row but such is not the case. Wish it was because I have not had 6 or 8 small sized solid milk chocolate candy Easter Eggs, but such is not true. No. I've got a headache the size of Milwaukee and I don't know the culprit. I see all right. I haven't been reading...been in the house and I'm a little off. Don't know why.
This is the first journal entry in here in a while. I don't know why. I can't get my brain around it. I don't have the mobile blog effort going. I can't blog there. I don't know how/why. It's annoying. I could text if I could get it going but don't want to text blog. That's DUMB. Besides, the links they tell you to go to and what to do to get it going, doesn't work so far...so, F that...besides, I don't need to be texting in my posts. The blog is for sentences and paragraphs. Concepts. Things. Ideas. Stories! So, they don't happen with Tweets. Which is what texting is to me. I don't want to use all my Texts for the month on this.

TITLED BLISS

Well, another cat has passed on as they say. She was looking at the water from the overflow area of the jacuzzi, sipping water, sitting, laying down and sleeping. She stared out at the water, maybe that's where her neighbor buddy brother cat died, in the water, (I know this for a fact, it did die in the water, or I found him there and fished the poor bugger out.), and she later died herself, in the flower bed, under my window.

12:32 A.M. PACIFIC

Finally are we satisfied? Did we do the damage to the finances etc that we wanted and needed to do, to be wholly content? I certainly hope so. I've spent enough money. Too much. Must find out. Feels over the limit, way out of line. I have to stop. I now know that I must heed these last "friendly" warnings...who knows? I may not survive to pass this way again...well, enough quoting the speaker utterances of the Pirates Of The Carribean ride at Disneyland...dead men do tell tales, and most good writers are dead long gone and who cares about that? I don't. Certainly. Who? A bunch of crap is on its way. I want to get laid and get a new phone tomorrow...as well as do laundry and see a bunch of movies. I have the over whelming feeling or had it on my way home from Long Beach tonight, of my weekend being over. I hate that feeling...usually I feel it hit me on my Friday night...and it hit again, per usual...and dammit all I had earlier the feeling overwhelming too when I was trying to sleep, take a nap earlier, (Something I rarely do.) that, saying to myself, I wouldn't mind seeing/having 3 or 18 weekends come and go and have my self spend not a cent on any thing but food for the week, you know? That's why I cry, but not why my eyes hurt. (Can't figure that one out.) My mouth is not so dry. I don't feel as if there's bile and I just must you know get to bed right now. Busy day tomorrow. Lot's of things to do and hard decisions to make.

Trying Doing Something

Oh, man. We really want to do something good for people before we leave this big dump of a planetary orb. Yeah, give back to something that has given us way too much. We don't know what to do. We're approaching the 50 year mark and we're as hopeless and enfeebled as we were when we first stumbled upon the linoleum or whatnot surface as that around 1962 or so, when we really got around. We were born in the Winter of 61' and all HELL was about to break loose. If you look at things now a bit, you'd think or see/say much the same. It's freaking CRAZY around here. People dying, protesting, going bankrupt, going to hell, STUPID! LAME! Incredibly dumb. What can be done? What on earth do we do? I am simply at a loss, completely overwhelmed. Sorry. Good Night, poopers. Good Night!

Kristina and Richard

OXFORD, MISS.

WELL, there you have it. Richard and Kristina (his wife) FORD will be at OXFORD TOWN for the New Year, a teaching and making money, a steady paycheck a piece, and you won't be there. No. No you won't, because that's for people who're writers. Folks who are signed up for classes and enrolled at the University of Mississippi, the place where Faulkner, William Clemmons Neal, Thomas Ellis Neal, and Neesa Neal all went for school. But YOU can't go. NO. You have perhaps DECADES of "learning". Hoops and Chutes which you cannot afford and ultimately do not have the life to live through, to get. FUCK!!

I Know But I Don't Know

I don't know why I don't know, what I don't know. If I knew that, why, I'd know everything!
Delivered Via Aether

EYE BODY HEALTH NET

My eye (on the left side) is better now. I can see how I need to put warm compresses on it where I haven't...just been too busy, and, have wanted needed, desired, to go to bed, to sleep, (very much so,)during the work-week.
My body is okay but I want change, from this to that. Out of here. It's okay. Healthy enough, I suppose, but, whatever. We've got it...just like, we've got net now, since for 5 weeks it seems, we've not had it. But, dunno, maybe it's only been three.

One Blog One Post

One Blog, One Post, I don't think so. I have not blogged in here in quite a while, not from home, not from this computer, and certainly not from this here new-fangled goddamned expensive TV screen! But so what? Who cares? I'm nothing new and mostly borrowed. Oh well. Moving on. NEXT!!!

Body Search The Wrong People Who Fly, Or, We're So Reactionary

If the U.S. is going to be in my uterus, it may as well be up my keester. And, if it's going to be on my groin, it might as well give me a 'happy ending'. I get more than just a little 'nervous' flying. ;)
{From The Handheld}

Getting Over Hump Day

Getting out my delicious blue black ink'd Japanese version of the Jetstream, and scribbling my thoughts on the Moleskine pocket notebook.
{From The Handheld}

FEAR

SAT. NOV. 13, 2010
JAMES ELLROY, will be at South Coast Village theatre adjacent at 10 a.m., if all goes according to plan, and I will as well. I want to see him, hear him, catch the 'nuttiness' that is the phenomena of a writer and quite the pre-eminent guru guy of L.A. Crime Noir, esp sic HIS life starting out, was indeed, 'that' (His mother was brutally raped, and murdered when he was just a kid).
'We Have Nothing To Fear But Fear Itself', our 'Father' of a President of our Nation, who once used to deliver 'Fireside Chats', which most people caught onto by the radio, not a fireplace. Certainly not his. He was too rich, too inaccessible. Most Americans never even knew he was 'disabled' as it was called back then, or different, maybe 'special'. What it was, was Polio, no?
Our FEAR, or what it is, isn't really the thing itself, but a Flash Bang Horror Hell (Our Most Unwanted) realization, that we have to make a decision, DO IT RIGHT NOW!!! And we may not want to. We may not have all the facts with which to make an informed, considered, thought process. We may be incapable, incapacitated, as it were, with the inability, to RUN! Because we don't have the use of our legs, or there's this Precipice at our end of the tunnel, and there's the Monster quickly gaining on us from the other direction.
NO, it may not be the thing itself. It may be CHANGE. Yeah, we fear it in that we're totally comfortable with our current run of precepts, intuition, assumptions, beliefs, for who, what, where, when, how, why things are, the way, they are. And, we don't want to change that. We don't want to have to jump into, be poured into, have poured onto us, a whole new set, series, or just influx of information, we have neither time or inclination, to process.
It's quite a thing to have to deal with chaos ongoing on a daily basis, it's exhausting. Who wants it? Who needs it? I don't, you?
And that's what life is, constantly, having to negotiate with yourself, with others, with the elements, things, on a constant basis. All of this, all of that, all of everything, all at once, is FEAR! The horror, the horror, the horror.

{From The Handheld}

No Facebook Weekend

No Facebook this weekend, and I can honestly say, I miss it. Miss posting and reading posts. Idea was, to not post, or get on to read posts, until Sunday morning, at 3 a.m., at least. 18:12 on this beautiful cloudy Friday evening, and I've not been on it, not once. And I do miss it, do indeed, regardless if some of the links people post can't be picked up on Mobile or even bothered with on Twitter, another I think I'll stay off of this week end.
There's that red bordered 'asterisk' on-screen, with the number 2, indicating some posts are pending to be read. Won't know what until Sunday, my Monday, at the earliest.
Thing to note here at Miss Elle's in Shell City, as I still smell that dark-blue dressed woman's sweet, nice, perfume, on my lips; face, shirt, that, well, huh, uhh. I'm writing. I'm posting. Blogging. And as I write, I can't recall if this one is the one I need to put a code on to get it to publish. I have three Blogs. And I can post via email, which is infinitely superior to trying to access them via internet browser, etc. on this hand-held. Oh yeah! Peachy. Big, clear, letters, screen, of email, regardless if the text will be changed on two of them, and not in the best of ways either. Oh, well.
{From The Handheld}

Wisdom From The Past

Wednesday, November 1st, 2006
Ah, yes, up for coffee, or maybe not. I just had a couple of shots of some wildly inaccurate truth serum, and lately, it occurs to me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Truth that is. It’s supposed to set you free. Knowing is part of the game I guess, if there need be a game and all (there’s a debate raging there), but I don’t know that it is freeing more than complexifying. It’s making things more complex. Truth’s a let down. It’s a relative term, etc. The sudden realization that, sex is more better, in your head. That’s a truth, and is probably only where it lies…ha! That that, is where is the actual act is (going on), when things external are happening. My, how complex all this is. See what I mean? It’s not elucidating or satisfying at all. It’s conundumbrating. Confounding. Confusing…a muddling to say the least. Oh well, hang the sense of it. Fuck off already, eh? Fuck off. Another month. Another calendar page. Another journal entry, tra-lah-lah-lah.

Shen-sha, Truth, The Thing Is...

We were told, after 9/11, that, the First Casualty of War is the TRUTH. For my money, we’ve been at war for longer than, (and well BEFORE), September 11th, 2001, at least as far as mine eyes have seen the glory. There is a mind-set, “hive” mind, “borg” placement in “cosmic-consciousness”, that says, the mylar balloon that landed or was found in your pool this morning at 5 A.M. is “BLUE” in color. There has to be for that, right? But there DOES NOT have to be a mind-set to believe what is told us when the TV news constantly, persistently “indicates” that there’s to be a MOSQUE at ground zero. No, because that is simply NOT TRUE!!! A community center, yes. Because according to my sources, there are other buildings, in fact mosques, nearer the site of the world trade center in New York City, than this proposed community center. And, ground zero, is in Kansas. The first time I heard that phrase, it was in conjunction with “the end of the world”, and someone figured the low ground point, where all the bombs would rain down and life as we know it would end, was in Kansas, the state, of the United States, of America. And my friend, who was principally a camera operator of video equipment for local San Francisco Bay Area television stations at the time, had told me he intended to be there at ground zero for the shooting of the event. Bay Area. I’m from the Bay Area. Which one? Tampa? Chesapeake? Hudson? When on the West Coast of the United States of America, you say or hear someone say; ‘I’m from the Bay Area’, you “naturally” assume, (Just like the balloon is blue.), San Francisco Bay Area. I don’t, not anymore, because I meet people from all kinds and sorts of Bay Areas. Ground Zero? There are many ground zeros. There’s a coffee shop on Haight Street in San Francisco, near where I used to live in the “lower height” or Western Addition. Several people died in three (3) separate plane-crash locations, on that “fateful” day. There was Shanksville, Pa., and, the “urban village” or “unincorporated” area of Arlington, Va., where the Pentagon is. And, of course, the place in New York City, where once stood two very seriously tall buildings, which were actually about three each tall buildings atop one another. So, there were or are several ground zero’s. Not one. And, for that matter, the world trade center? There’s one in Long Beach, California. There might be more, right here in these ‘United’ States of ‘America’. Point is, it all depends on your mind-set, reference point, hive mind, locus. Just what, your ‘point-of-view’ is. Sure, we all need it, in order to agree that, for all intents and purposes, that that balloon I found in my pool this morning is/was “blue”, but we don’t need it for not getting the facts right about where a mosque is or what a mosque is or whether or not a beautiful community center is going to be built. It IS, thank, goodness. It is, and jews and muslims and christians and atheists and anarchists all are welcome I’m sure. And all will be able to become members and enjoy the fruits of the labor of many people who put it up and maintain it. And none of this should have any bearing on all those people who died on that or any other tragic day in their lifetime. Life should go on. People should get over or through terrible tragedy catastrophe devastation. Blimps Blowing up, bridges falling down, Ships sinking, and, The Unsinkable Molly Brown. All of it. Life. And it should go on.

Great Jumping George

It's one a.m. almost and I'm tired finally. I stayed up watching all my recorded TV shows. NCIS Los Angeles (2) and the Original, and Hawaii 5-0, and the CSI Vegas premiere, with Florence Henderson hair kid. Warehouse 13 finale...no more MYKA? Nnnoooo!!! Was that it? Seems like there was more. Took forever to do just that. From sun down to...1 a.m.!! Great Jumpin' George!

Mamma Told Me Not To...

SAT. 24 JULY, 2010
IN BED usually before sun goes down. UP and in the water for a swim when it's dark still. Hittin' coffee shop before clouds clear, here w/ a few of the workin' girls smokin' cigarettes outside or in the lobby, waitin' for a 'ride'.
THEN it's off to the Mart w/ K, banks and coffee and picture show, if we can manage it.
Yes, K-Mart. For Lunch Pails and Pens. Then to S&L and regular fundage house to put filthy lucre there from Savings, to take care of service work on car. And other various sundry as is told. Another stop, coffee shop. This one for coffee, iced, no room, no sweetner. This for the cup for the week, basically. For I brew my own at home & use their cup for work. Then oh when maybe I can get out of all this and join you at the picture show. Somehow it occurs to me I didn't get much sleep, and I'm doomed.
{From The Handheld}

A Load of Dark Things

Just did get up and cleared out Pool filters (From the two Leaf Traps: One on the Hose line. One right part of the Pump.), put coffee into a cup (Mexican brand Cafe GARAT), Arabica blend, of course, and Finally sat down to World Cup. See what I can do? Aren't you proud of me?
{From The Handheld}

I CAN JUST SEE SOMETHING NOW

AH, and I do so love the ease of use on this here thing now, but can certainly do without all this tiny text. Oh well. The madness continues. At least there's that. Enjoy!

Because This IS the moment...

Because this is the moment I'd rather I found out why or what I was told and did not understand than get upset about it and decimate another person's character.
I did not understand what she said. I did not understand what you said. I went back to her to ask.
No rice with this dish in the Entree's section that said rice and soup served with the dishes listed.
Use their box, and it doesn't matter how much it weighs, it'll be the same for postage on the same box of theirs regardless the weight, and will be more, if you use or reuse your own.
I'll reuse the same box that I've say sent you or that you have sent me or whatever.
That may sound like you're NOT going to use the Post Office box. That in fact, you're going to be using a box from the garage, possibly an old brown cardboard one you may have sent us, etc.
It is a pity a person gets upset when a person just simply explains this.
Yes, people don't understand all the time. Yes, just drop it. Who cares? So what? It doesn't matter. So too isn't it wonderful to see to hear to know to learn to understand? To challenge the difficult in life and have tools then when you learn, to better deal with what in life you encounter?
It is obvious at this juncture, I seem to revel in it. Sorry to try to lord it over onto you. I apologize. I am sorry. I don't care any more. I'm tired. I hate you. Oh well, too bad, get over it, whatever.
It is often unknown what motivates another to say/do what they say/do. Folks are irrational. They do whatever for whatever reason or circumstance. It either means a great deal or nothing at all. OR, it is a little of both. Who knows?
All we have is this moment, this here and now, and it is over by the time one cogitates that it is so.
------
I think the main issue, which is a thought you brought up in conversation some time before, which I thought of later last night:
(It is Thursday morning now and you are getting ready to leave.)
Is that of Dad's Anger, to which I think: OUR anger. Mom's, Yours, Mine.
It is too bad we don't have a handle on when it's coming, and a way of channeling or stopping it.
http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/rats-with-wings/5108239?productTrackingContext=center_search_results

Phoenix

Sky Harbor was a blur. One piss, three shots of Crown Royal, and we're off. Too bad we won't be with the two Gals from Aspen. Oh well. At least I'm a bit more relaxed, and the 'aspect' of 'every thing' isn't so ... 'daunting'. Too bad too I can't slip off and see my Father & Step-Mother too.
http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/rats-with-wings/5108239?productTrackingContext=center_search_results

Okay But Really, Why?!

Ice in urinals at all these Lenny's type grease-pit 'restaurants'. What's the point? What's the deal?
Why, if they ask, you say, that's a good question? (Stall stall stall, the politician thinks up something to say.) Why don't people say: That's a stupid question(?). Instead, they just insult you. Doubly so.
{From The Handheld}

WORD

Today's Reading comes to us from King James Douglas Morrison: "I'm sick of these stinky boots. I'll never wake up in a good mood again". Which we interpret: I'm sick of these stinking moods. When will I wake up in a good mood?
{From The Handheld}

Cold Still

My brown and black, mesh and suede nylon Vasque trainers on my feet, well worn good foot support out. Loose top white crew socks, mysteriously still clinging to my rough, raw, cold, chapped shins. Loose fitting Levis 505's, 33/30 in pre-wash-fadedness, hanging annoyingly off my hips, but not off or below my 'negative-butt' arse, as the style of the day is. Medium fitting, Large size, Fruit-Of-The-Loom brand, Black pocket T, with a Medium, long-sleeved, fine-ribbed, black, polo shirt, over that, by Land's End. A cotton on the inner body, and fleece at the neck, insulated, dark-charcoal, zipper front, woolen sweater, by Carraigdonn, in Ireland, a brown wool ski-cap by Patagonia, from Italy or France. I'm cold this tail-end of Spring.
Delivered Via Aether Space

Insurance Girl As A Naked Baby In My Dream

And so I get my gig, my first Hollow-Wood situation, in decades, and am to appear at an undisclosed location somewhere in the bowels of Hollywood proper. It was one of those nondescript places nestled off a busy street, right next to some houses, that'd been there for years, probably longer than these "studios".
Parking right out front for me, a Producer? Well, I dunno. A simple green car with 4 doors, but without it, my nuts were gone, and I need those. Just, you know, in case.
I get on set, every thing's a mess. People clothes cables lights grip stuff every where. Folks on tour. I'm telling them it's closed. There's a fire I have to call in. I'm trying to turn on the work lights three times and a fire breaks out around a flat wall, out of my view but I can hear it and see the orange light, see some smoke. It's like I'm the stage manager, not even a producer at all, and no one cares about me or the fill in job I have to do thank-less-ly. But of course when every one walks by when it comes time to leave, they're all bragging about how they're having to have their Rolex's serviced and are going to TimeShare's in Acapulco in three weeks. Who cares?
I have ... Oh, no worries. Flash on the old days when I had to bum a ride home or something, but no. I have my car. I can drive my self ho...walking out to the curb. There's nothing there! What?! What? Where's my car? It's not there. And I go into panic mode and find the office and ask all around and am viewing shocked faces. I'm all, over-reacting for them. I get a line on the tow service. I'm yelling and screaming my story to each and every face in the bureau-crazy. Not open today at this time. Will have to call tomorrow. Such-n-such time, etc. Damn. Walking along the crowded cubicles a dog or two come out to greet me, calm me down, etc. I get with a friendly face or three, and finally it's the insurance broker lady on TV. She's naked or partially clothed. She has really odd pale skin. Hairy like I'd never noticed it before.
And she's cuddling with me and I like it. People in the office are making noises about us, as they pass by, but she doesn't care. I smile, and wake up, ready to get into my wacky-weird day. Not all populated with rude, coupon people.
http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/rats-with-wings/5108239?productTrackingContext=center_search_results

Rats With Wings

http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/rats-with-wings/5108239

BUY IT NOW!
{From The Handheld}

TWO DREAMS

MON. MAR. 29th, 2010
DREAM: Emma Watson and I were dancing in a roundish room of doors, after we had been tasting a bunch of whisky. Highland Park was the last glass. It was the lightest and sweetest best taste. Our mouths were burnt and burning from others, the HP was like fresh water. Earlier I had been hiking the hills to the rocky high promontory coast. There had been some land cleared out and soil added around a few trees. One tree was on a high top area in the middle of this high end housing tract, and with my bare hands, I was patting it. I'd followed Emma on horseback, her back to camera, we as ghost flying behind, admiring the beautiful female body shape form. And I was on that hilltop, saying something, and then we were walking the hills together for a bit and then were in a room. A bar. A tasting place at a long table, trying out the whisky. Laughing. Having a grand time of it. After the last sample, really good and buzzed, we left. We were in that room. Pushed a button for the Lift apparently, and then she grabbed me and we began to dance. I followed quite easily, until I thought about it and then didn't step too well, then she stopped. THE END.
---
SOME other dream after, along the coast, car parking under water. Florida I think it was. I wanted to read this magazine article. I was having to check out its length and put a book mark in it, but the words kept going on. There were the photos and they were those moving images ones where the rain drops falling slowly on a sunny day illuminated clearly the overly sunny bright Florida coast, as the raindrops very slowly dropped, making big ripples here and there. How did those people get into and out of their cars without them flooding, much less, start them up?

{From The Handheld}

I Say, Good Bye, True Love.

Giving up writing as a career choice now certainly has freed up in me a lot of pressure from the standpoint of all the heady emotions I used to have. I'll bet now my health will improve as well, no more barrage of oddity squeaks and squirms, the hurts and fears here there that I used to endure. I'll be pain free until death do I part. Well, yeah, sure, why not?
----
People ask me about something and I plainly tell them. I don't wear much of a face on, but what ever I may have in the moment, I ride on the outside, and if I'm bored or tired or any thing, it's broadcast loud and clear, I guess. Or when I tell people something, my family way of speaking like a major authority, comes across as bossy or arrogant or I'm having to stop my day to tell you?
I guess that's what, from time to time people ask something, I tell them, then they tell me: "Okay, I didn't know. I was just asking. I've never been here before."
And I then really chafe. I say: And you asked me and it is my job to tell you and so I'm telling you.
Which isn't best under current circumstance, to be uttering. Just don't say any thing, or smile, mean it, and say; Have a nice day. Or I'm sorry. I'm really at a loss here for what I've done to hurt you. I didn't mean to. I was asked a question and I did my best to be as thorough as possible and answer your question and then some.
That, 'and then some', may not be necessary from time to time. They may only need a 'turn left at the crossroads', and nothing about the weather, or conditions of the sign; the minute descriptions of the myriad confounding little sidetracks, all along the way. They don't all need that, but pity me who's taught to be the best and is trying hard and ends up allowing them the opportunity to say something that you decide hurts you, and since you don't have anything of the sort in re - a poker face, your anger frustration screams out at the world through your visage, sorry!
One day some guy asked What are we shooting at today? You reply Same thing every day, the targets! They say the killer line "Never been here before".
Great, pissed us both off once again. I'm tired of this. I think, why are other people so emotionally super sensitive? Truth is, YOU are!
{From The Handheld}

RELAX PARTNER!

Had wanted to sit and think and write a spell. Got on this thing after yet another pee and spate of reading Lehane's Shutter Island, which I was inspired to read after seeing the film. I usually do it the other way around, esp sic after I know the film based on the book is coming out. And after a dump of some stomach wasting toxicity, and reading again. I got back here instead and began to read yet another one of these huge It's A Conspiracy of some sort emails my sister sends of someone on a typo/poor argument bound thing about Vaccinations, and how folks are getting sick from them actually. Had to stop. It was all over the place. Gave me a headache. Well, I read some more of the book after the pee as I said and after the Lehane book reading, which I at first at one point wasn't interested in picking up again, I got on email and then got back to the book, again, after peeing, long after the shit...and boy oh boy is this confusing or what? And who wants to read this any how? I can't even clearly write it, the order of events, kept straight, I think, in my head! Dammit, man. Shit!
It's 7:05, I start at 8:15, and I usually go in from the parking lot a half hour or so beforehand to make sure I'm on time. And there's plenty of time and re-reading this, it isn't so bad, but in a better frame of mind I'll be better able to sort it out. What to do?
Well, I can cull some pens, just a few, simple dealios and have that be my bag for Mexico. Not like the crazy stuffed bolsas of past visitations. I just must maintain a semblance of peace before ... before work today, and the trip then which I hope I can do without the dizzying low blood pressure relaxers for plane flight, but still be calm for the journey. Fuckers moved the cones next to me and though there are plenty of other places closer to the shuttle stop this short fat chick w/radio blaring door open blocking my exit too, just taking her time setting herself and her car up for the long park exposed to the elements of the day. What with clouds, I don't think much sun, but she's putting up her sunshades. Radio still on ... yet another apron put on. And now a sweater or two. Shit! I have a window open here on the other side of my car, but I'm so frazzled, irritated, and choking, I need to get air on her side (I'm in the front passenger seat.) so I open the window there, and still nothing of radio silencing or turning down. It's not that loud, but fuck! Close your damn door! She gets now into her car and still, ready for work she sits a spell. Putting on make up? I don't care. Just, you know, I got here because I figures no one'll park next to me. Already a car on my left. Cones and spaces for the shuttle-buses next to me on the other side. No one'll park there. Can't move those cones. Well the shuttle guy's moved bus after bus and then moved the cones!! I just can't handle people and radios and car alarms when I'm trying myself with a full bladder to sit and read and relax, to sit and read and relax!!!
{{From Unit # 9630}}

Wig City

Dig you freak out when Dylan went electric? Have a conniption with that "wild" guitar solo in the Carpenters Good-Bye To Love? Are you prone to massive seemingly erratic emotional out bursts? It's only human, you're supposed to make mistakes. Thanks Billy Joel, feel much better.
{From The Handheld}

Yeah And Aint It Surprising?

Yeah, and aint it surprising? The good news is very good and sad. I mean, here I am feeling so good at work this week and things have been good and bad and for some reason I'm not terrorizing the hell out of my self that I'm thinking when is it going to break? But isn't something terrible going to happen? Of course, and it does. Both local and afar. With people I know in hospitable and then strangers, even more just flipping out, going off, and it's very very sad. I'm older than every one else. I should be gone, but I'm not. I haven't a thing to do or say and all around are all these cool people and they're doing things in a publically acknowleged way, and are making money from it, something I desperately want, but have no inkling for and means to, and though I don't want their lives as such, I don't want to be like them do like them, I do want that acclaim or notice for what I do and say. I want it to have meaning, resonance, be of higher accord, and, to have to be able to do that alone, and NOT HAVE to do what I do now. Yeah, and aint it surprising, they make sure these people aren't listed as terrorists. They shoot their co-workers and they destroty company enemy workers and property with their airborne vehicles, and their end result is terror, yet, aint it surprising? Yeah.

Winternationals

Used to go when Ontario had a motor speedway. Riverside as well, met Dan Gurney way back when. It was all so cool. Then all the key men folk figure heroes in my life began dropping like flies, literally, right before my eyes, and I never quite recovered. And yeah I know, boo-hoo! Get over it, but didn't realize such the impact until 40 years later. Who am I? What should I be? What care to sort anything out about any of it any way? Nothing. NOTHING!
{{From Unit # 9630}}

ON THE LIST OF THINGS TO DO

Read Warren Hinckle's WHO KILLED HUNTER S. THOMPSON, if it will ever be released. It's told to this author by ed and proprietor of Last Gasp Press of SF that spring this spring will see it. Was in final 2 weeks of final editing...and that was it seems about a week or three ago now. Been pining for some HST screed, but MUTINEER, the final book of letters, is now due 2011 or so, FEBRUARY, of that year, oh well.
{{From Unit # 9630}}

The New Month

MON. FEB. 1st, 2010
Don't know precise methodology for speaking here, right now. For what should be written, who knows? Can't say as I'm of any help.
There's too much. Much too much to say, that needs relating, etc.
Life is god masturbating. Just, living life, being, experiencing, in all its myriad, seemingly sourceless permutations: animal, vegetable, mineral. In the vast array of creatures' thought, emotion, etc. That is its "essence."
Is it more important for me to control my temper, my thoughts, et cetera, than it ever will be for me to write stories and sell them? Is it more important to learn what happiness is than to get a job/career that "means" something?
Will curing me of my infantilism cure me of my creativity? Will discipline to sit and read and write without missing a day of it, make me a better person or will the reverse do a better job? How will I know either way?
A person knows only what they know. They go for that. Their instincts those voices all that chatter, from within from without, they take all that into account, and act, for good or ill, to for of by themself/others, and that is life. And if in any retrospective view is measured, some things worked some did not and there are other deals wanting. And that's just about it.
I was not in the mood to read or write or stay here this morning of a later start day, but here I am writing, and soon I'll be reading, and maybe just maybe we'll get every thing covered.
{From The Handheld}

SAGE ADVICE TO CREATIVE TYPES

Do not depend on the hope of results. When you are doing the sort of work you have taken on, essentially an apostolic work, you may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and even achieve no result at all, if not perhaps results opposite to what you expect. As you get used to this idea, you start more and more to concentrate not on the results but on the value, the rightness, the truth of the work itself. . . .
 –Thomas Merton, in a letter to Jim Forest dated February 21, 1966, reproduced in The Hidden Ground of Love: Letters by Thomas Merton (W. Shannon ed. 1993).
{From The Handheld}

Stuff

Got stuff on my synapses here that shouldn't be. 1) Care over what people around me are doing. It comes to mind that the less I care about what I think normally people should or should not be doing around me, the better I feel. Having said that, it suddenly occurs that, therein may be a key to happiness. I just don't care. That perennial apathy. Key on a chain around my neck. One or more of them. Plugs, dragging the ear lobes of some jolly passing travelers, so what? And if you can translate that or carry it onward to the other drivers on the road or co-workers and their mess, etc. Shoot! Success City Arizona!! Sociopathy here I come, eh? Just where is that substance (some kind of neuro-nutralizer) that supposedly these suicide bombers take, the don't care don't feel pain stuff (But why then would they even care to complete their missions? How does that work??), that magic "happy pill", to take me to that faery land, a rabbit hole, across the river with Lenny in Of Mice and Men, all soft and cuddily, ahhh, yeeeesss!
{{From Unit # 9630}}

There Has Got To Be...

TUE. JAN. 19th, 2010
DEATH be not proud. Please, do not let me go messy. Don't make me stupid, lame, and dumb. Let me not be forgotten, as we all are and all will be. Much like death, denied or life, lived in oblivion of. Think of me once in awhile dear world, yes, self-same I cursed and yelled to take me out occasionally. A flair for the dramatics, which truly wasn't or isn't necessary; I am not a writer or actor of any repute. I am nothing of course. Don't exist any more, so why should I care? Once said this morning on a whim, when I'm dead, an angel, of evil or good intent, I'm sure somehow (I don't know how I'll know.), I'll miss this, being alive. Now, ultimately, nothing matters. That's what lesson is available from thinking and growing rich. The book. Pretty bleak. If you ask me. Stupid too. Lame. Dumb. "There has got to be a better way". Thanks to screenwriter of Bill Mckay (The Candidate), Waldo Salt? ((JEREMY LARNER actually. He also wrote: "Drive, He Said."))

{From The Handheld}

What I Really Want

SUN. JAN. 17th, 2010
Don't know how or why it was to me my way of thinking a bad idea to take a shower this morning. Feel so good. Cue Chuck
Mangione muzak. Maybe we should just pee now and meditate. Ah yes. But really, trouble is, don't want to do any thing, not even drive away from here. Certainly don't want work at same place where we've been all this time. Don't know what I want. Don't know as I could have slept in much longer than I had. Don't know that I was or am any more glad happy satisfied for any thing that I have. I am so grateful thankful indebted etc esp sic my mother for protecting taking care of me. My sister my dad as well. I'm overwhelmed by grief and hope and worthlessness. Don't know exactly what to say or do. Maybe I can write about it, put it into a story that appears out of me soon, much like the shopping mall story where the man's head went down with a ker-klunk, the screenplay and short work of prose out of it that is Rats With Wings.
What's on my list? Gaa, I dunno. I've done it, but haven't made a full time career of writing, the arts, the movies. I've been in and have worked on many. Yeah. I have. And so...but nothing long term and or making profit creating nest egg, etc.
----
What I want to do where I want to go involves flushing toilets cleaned by me on a regular basis but not under duress. Pockets full of nice shiney clean expertly working new then because they're taken care of, old things, but are still rich cool expensive good but never boastful or bragging about. Clean well lighted places, yes, Hem. For books or living. And I want to be in and feel to be a part of.
Would love to learn how to survive in the wild, but wouldn't want to have to now or forever have to be roughing it in a real way, forever. Sorry Sam (uel Langhorne Clemons).
Don't...I don't want to say I do not any more. I want to be able to say, I have an ISBN or 8, and glow in the dark legible watches. Eyes that don't bother me. A girl that doesn't either, but HELPS, in a good way. (WAYS) I want things I have to do, doing done. No grief angst misery protracted nonsense from elements of society weather universe. Or the cast iron stainless poly-carbonate diamond whatever constitution to endure, the faith of a Brazil Nut in sitting meditating with my vision to get it done, forever.
{{From Unit # 9630}}

I STILL DON'T GET IT

All my life I've searched for something I cannot name. I really don't know what it is. I really mean that, if you know, you know something when and where you find it, you know what it is, then, before that, it's just something you can't name and you spend all your life searching, searching, searching for it...
Now, all along the way, by and by it comes to being that you find it...all these little things that amongst the big or bigger photographic still-frame in your mind, you find, and you go: A-HA! It's a satori, a pop blast between the eyebrows (iffen you don't have a mono-brow) and it's IN to your third eye itself.
Here and there you have your little get its.
But over all, to keep you going, you don't get what you want, get it? You don't because that's what keeps you going, all along the way, and you say to yourself, all along the way or all my life I've been searching for something I cannot or my heart cannot name...and, yeah that quote is attributed to Francois Villon or some one some times, and is paraphrased here, from the book by Hunter S. Thompson, Hell's Angels, that is really, I feel, something he wrote himself.

THINK! Or, Consider Yourself One With The Furniture

****************************
MON. JAN. 11th, 2010
USED to be a time way back when, we sat in a car that was paid for with one hefty check to a friend, and write. Would get out a small or large notebook, writing paper, goldenrod lined college rule, plain some times and laterally, grid, small, but not so small, at least not so much and not so very often that, usually just average sized grid. Long gone are those days? Wrote some letters then, some of these writings'd be. Now? A few snippet wings on the fly, the idealized long ago postings of a madman, which every one is doing now in so too many venues and media, who wants to pay for that? How can one make/earn a living there? That part of the dream has remained ever elusive. Always the aspect of a regular job. Some have been more fun, most short lived, like my stays in places with others. What to do? What to do?
It's a privilege, life is. A privilege, much like a job or driver's license. You have no right for being here or having the support "system" to sustain you. It's all just a privilege.
The only way not to be a burden is not being here. But what good is that? No one knows or doesn't know. (No one can tell us, or so we consider.) There's no telling, no, not really. It's frustrating. Best ignore and get on with daily grind. Breathe, move on, and not consider so much.
So far as we know, we are the only ones who do consider, who know or think we do. It's important, we notify ourselves and others, to think, consider, and to be aware of these things, that we do.

{From The Handheld}

If A Lover Meets A Lover, When Coming Through The Rye...

Well, IF a lot of crackn' damn things, you know? That just doesn't happen in real actuality. Not in your or my every day life. NO. That NEVER happens. Why? Because it's a wish a dream of a possibility that, maybe perhaps could occur, but WON'T really. NO. It only really ONLY happens in SONGS, POEMS, BOOKS, and Motion Pictures. I mean, we still don't have our Belt Jets yet, do we? There's these films we watch and they're always unsatisfying. You want to be famous or have to give up your day job because you have to do your actual work of writing novels creating screenplays poetry authoring, etc. But, NO. That NEVER happens. This is real life, and that's where normal every day crap over and over occurs, and you're rotten and miserable inside and happy other moments and it is all, more or less, completely OUT OF YOUR CONTROL. Enjoy! Be happy with that, eh?

Power's Elusive Contact

Started out writing something else and remembered another thing began my thoughts with earlier. But what good would it do me now but to stay on target? But, what's that? Isn't over-all to record the moment as it happens?
I trade in/to ... And the thought was Tend to? No, Trade to, because it's more interesting to say. It feels better/different, and it catches the reader in the rye.
But, it; all these things that came up just now, is & was, all I had back then, when I came to this email to write on it for a blog on this here blogger website. I came to this post, to write something else completely. As the title suggests, about power.
Just read how in the comic: Dominion, by Shirow Masamune, that "Power is just power, you only need it when you need it," or something like that. Never mind the context of the book, it's not important for the illumination of my point. The point is that I just posted a tweet which read something like, if power is power etc when, etc, then why is it so elusive? Why does it slip my grasp? I need to fix and sort stuff NOW! Can't wait. Pool. Job. Finances. Writing. Sex/Love-Life. Every thing. All of it. NOW. Can't get into all the details now, no time. Have to head into work. And the phone rings here, asking me in to it earlier! Thought this was the earliest shift for today. Can't make the 45 min earlier start request, but can do a 15 min earlier start, which gives me more time to get in, get ready, and, do it, right, more comfortably and more power--control--contact, with every thing.
{{From Unit # 9630}}

Bosons Muons

Ah yes, Bosons, Muons, and why I will never be a Theoretical Physicist: I'd want to be a "real" one.
{{From unit # 9630}}