An Apology From The Multiverse

AN APOLOGY TO YOU FROM THE UNIVERSE

FRIDAY, 11/25/2016

I wish to apologize to you. NO, we wish to apologize to you. You who are there, suffering in life and are upset with the way things are, have been, and will continue to be. Selah. Such as it is. We’re sorry. We are the Metron’s as it were. A nod to the arrogant, omnipotent sort of egg-headed nozzels of dewsh that prevented Star Trek -The Original Series (TOS), from understanding what’s going on during one of their adventures….eventually, the HUMAN’s prevailed. In this case, we’ll all have to die to find that out, or any “thing”, for that matter…if that is even the case. We may not. I mean, if we’re just, spat out into aether, from this personality we have, to nothingness, well, none of this certainly will matter. 

Beware, we digress. We apologize. We’re sorry. Truly, we are. What have we got to lose? Nothing, right? Okay. We’re at a point in being where the “self” matters, but only as a construct to dealing with others on a more basic human level. Otherwise it doesn’t seem to. Nothing matters ultimately, and that is really strange when you think about it. Sad really, but let’s not get maudlin so quick. There we go. Time a plenty for that, for sure, later on…

Let’s see, where were we? Appy Polla Loggee. I don’t know if Burgess (A CLOCKWORK ORANGE) even spelled it so. But, we’re sorry, so let’s go for all of it, if we can. We’re sorry. Ever so sorry. Really. Truly, We ARE!

  Black Friday today. Let’s have a White Wednesday. Yeah, sure. Why not? If someone’s going to be offended, fuck them, or actually, don’t. Let them suffer by not having sex. Let all of the suffering commence. We’ve apologized already, right? And, enough too, okay?

White Wednesday, because my snotty-faced, heap of parrot droppings o’l self is offended. And, I must have MY day. My day, White Wednesday, consists of this: Waking, to an “all-white” illumination, hearing inside my head, IT’S WHITE WEDNESDAY! And then I just turn over and go back to sleep. Simple. 

            Nothing happens on White Wednesday. You wake up then, on Thursday, and, you know Tuesday was the Day before Yesterday, and that Yesterday, WEDNESDAY, was White Wednesday. Simple, eh? Pure. Happens before Thursday, and Thursday happens after that. What could be more simple and plain and fair? 

          You have your Black Friday, and I have my White Wednesday, and, to be more generous, you have your Black Friday, and the very next Wednesday, will be my White Wednesday. Nothing happens. You, Me, We, All, wake, and realize it, and sleep, and wake the NEXT Thursday, and then after Thursday, it’s a regular Friday and then a regular Saturday, and so forth and so….on! How about that? Pretty good, eh? Decent of us, ain’t it? Isn’t it? Yes. Of course, if we do say so, and, we do.

  SEE-We digress!! But oh the deliciousness-es of the digressions! Beautiful, eh? Perfect! Nothing!!

“The Age Of Trump”, --Hojimbo. We’re in the age of trump now, so says the sages of the age. No need to panic. There’s a lot of time between here and January swearing in of the new democratically elected president elect. Yes. A lot can happen, and probably will. But so what? There’s really no need to panic. You’re not going to experience in your lifetime a thing where you should have tried to make sure you and your country didn’t completely turn out into these or this MONSTY on the door, like a bug in every whore, and it ravaged and killed every one and all sundry items by the wayside. No. Not like nazi-isms. Fascists maybe, but not the nasties. No, that was a one-go train-ride and its long-life of references or feral referentialisms, just keeps oncoming like a traffic jam on a weekday of the 405 or 91 or whatever, ut…

Look, don’t panic. You’ve done your best. You don’t have to turn in your neighbor. She’s not going to turn you in. It’s not that kind of world…not just yet, is it? Or, is it?

What has all this nonsense been about any way? You know? Think about it, or don’t. What’s happening? We’re all so quick to vilify and slander and bring down any one and anything, with regard to who what where when and why, right? Political Leaders, Neighbors and Friends…you name it. It’s yours. Drag it down. Denigrate. Later, DENY! I NEVER!! Cuckoo, Cuckoo, Cuckoo! It’s crazy making for sure. 

We’re all a bunch of petulant children these days. All APP bound abbreviated syndrome-d Sad excuses for our psychotic behaviors, anti-social in the social realm. As we freely verbally abuse all and sundry. 

        WHERE DID THE TOUGH LOVE GO?

            IT WENT THE WAY OF THE SNOWFLAKES!

We’ve become or are all now the cast, crew, audience of the Jerry Springer shows and we get what we deserve. FACT IS FICTION, TV: REALITY. Paul David Hewson (Bonavox) is correct. You too can realize a new reality now. Suck on that, fuckers!

Does this mean we all melt down in the middle of the street? (Some have.) Torch one another’s artificial turf lawns and succulents with gasoline now? Public Temper Tantrums every chance we get? Everywhere? 

How is any of it acceptable? 

In due course maybe we’ll all settle down. Take some magnesium, or like Bonobo’s (monkey’s) get give sex, and more often…these monkeys fuck when they meet, are happier than most. Go figure. 

Magnesium, relaxes the muscles, lowers blood pressure…and, exercise is good, so they say. Will we all start walking more? Take seriously the aspect of swimming more, or, all year around? BAH! Fuck that shit!

Let’s get snowed/stoned, go to dizzy’s-land. Hot-box it in the car before we go. Drive in to park, with tall-boy aluminum can open container, phone up to head, child standing on the center console flexing its knees, doing a jiggy crotch grab nose pick as you look for your preferred parking place, where YOU want to park, NOT accepting the red ink contract which says Park As Directed. Yes, supra-entitled. Your shit doesn’t stink. Not to you anyway. Actually, smells a bit sweet, doesn’t it? Yeah, you in your supra-clean GARGANTUAN pickamuck-truk. Over-sized clean as a whistle off road vehicle on these surface streets with anodized roo-bars in front. Hell, even an old Toyota can smash a fox or coyote or skunk or raccoon without much damage. What the fuck you need roo bar’s for? Oh yeah, that’s right, Black Friday, nothing to do but feed on a Kangaroo. Dontcha have plenty of “turnkey’s” left over? Make a casserole. Dump all that TURKEY, mashed potatoes, yams, stuffing, etc, into a deeeeep dish, sprinkle some grated cheese, and zap it? 

We’re all a bunch of poor dumb ass dipshits, parading around our shit for each other. See-How much I can spend? See-What I can produce? See-Aren’t you jealous? We’re all about 6 paychecks away from the gutter. We’re all so poor and jaded and fucking deluded. It’s a joke on ourselves. 

Things are the way they are and there’s nothing we can do about it. Nothing. It’s the way it is. It’s the way it works. It is what it is. This is it. Ride the strange torpedo all the way to the bitter end, we guess. 

LOOK there is a certain sense of things we want you to understand. Whether it is our fault or not, we’re trying. We know answers (some). We just want to be able to believe. We want to know without doubt. Perhaps and as we say this, it occurs we’ve written we too many times and that doubt and speculation are right and healthy to bring perspective and make the best possible chance at outcomes where and when it is you choose a path/part or emotions\stance in or on something. We are so supremely grateful to not be so damned upset/bothered about this recent u.s.a. election cycle outcome.

We’re ever so sorry for the hurt souls in it. All the crying and the destruction done for, to, by, every, all, by some that, for fuck all reason, some of the damage done was by people (loosely termed) people in Oregon who didn’t even VOTE! That destruction of property…should be karmatized on them…for their dunderheadedness-es. Or, supreme forgiveness and eye opening to be given them so that they can see what retards they are. 

People have gone off. What the fucking hell is that all about? What is wrong with people?

It is with renewed vigor, ever onward, we hope, with faith, in a better future with all, soon, all, will be restored, once we get underway, and can relax and get back to whatever hell it is, we deem normal. Sure, the CUBS won the “world series”, the Penguins aren’t doing too bad, and maybe the bowl that shall not be named, next year, will be fun to watch, but so what? 

Can and will neighbors look out for one another, still, despite the fact those who didn’t vote, those who protested, the democratic process, went around willy nilly and shit on this all? We hope people will stop: killing, hurting, damaging. WE hope they settle down. We hope tough love reigns throughout, or something like this. DRIVE ON!

Gimmie: Gimmie the serenity to accept it, what I can’t settle. PEACE, eh? Courage a plenty I’ve got to change that which I can. Leave me alone there. But, please: WISDOM! Wisdom to KNOW the DIFFERENCE!!!

So Be IT!

Allow me to type what words and letters I desire to type and we will love you long time. Don't auto correct my intentional mannerisms and allow the ineptitude word to pass.

Can't Recall If This Works Or Not

Nope. Might as well try however. Should be meditating. There's much to be concerned. Earthquakes, Floods, Wars, Bad Weather in general. Death of this that the other person. My sister's medical needs. Everyone. So strong the desire to sit here and pass the day away. Not go to work, nothing. Sad. That's just way too much. New week ahead and new training in a new job. Be of good cheer. Enjoy.

The Future is HERE!

http://www.thecarconnection.com/overview/toyota_mirai_2016

FINALLY!!!

mumbly-pegs

Came time to write a letter to a friend. On the way we found some pictures...

Roo Humps Pig

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3634548/Kangaroo-photographed-having-sex-pig-Northern-Territory.html?ito=email_share_mobile-masthead

Even if it were true that kanga and porcine were in a relationship. That the pig and the boxer here are having sex, to me it's just the Roo on a romp. It's rape, or something. Dunno. Does the pig mind? Do you hug a co-worker? If the co-worker doesn't mind, they don't go to human resources and complain, then maybe it's okay. Even if there's nothing more to it than that.

This may be photo-shop work. I don't care. It doesn't interest me.
What's of note is what kind of kids would they have? Would they be well taken care of? Would we have to know about it, would we be made to care?

Well, the best way of dealing with this is to just ignore it. Maybe it'll go away. They can't possibly create a new thread here, I don't consider. But then I'm no expert in animal husbandry. What do I know?

What Malcolm Gladwell Missed About the 10,000-Hour Rule | Inc.com

http://www.inc.com/david-burkus/what-malcolm-gladwell-missed-about-the-10000-hour-rule.html

What's also missing is and you can't study it either, is, what aesthetically the differences are between the "players" whether bankers or whatever, is, some folks just can't hack it. Some are terrible people and should never do these things. Some want to so bad, but simply NEVER WILL become the coveted "thing" they so desire. And folks will just say simply of them, it just wasn't in the stars. Let's face it you can't just study to be Prince Charles and then study and become him. Some things some people will just never be.

Isn't That Odd

But isn't that odd?
Each generation comes and goes, thinking that it's THE end. It's not, not for them, not for us. Not unless they're swept away by the tidal wave, or, Tsunami, because a tidal wave is the wave of the beginning or end of the high or low tide. It's only about ankle high. Yet it's only a teaspoon required up the nose to drown perhaps, but the Japanese word, Tsunami better fits, regardless if it is or isn't a Dragon at the bottom of the Sea slapping its tale on the sea bottom,  which causes the storm of water that gets you, even though clearly the tide could.
Each generation on this old glob, and it is a glob, mostly covered with water, but called Earth, for some reason, thinks it's the end for them. And quite rightly for them it is. Buildings fall down, bridges collapse. The earth quakes. Drought and Pestilence kills many. But, isn't it odd, this mythos, the myth of The End, is ingrained almost within each of us? With every generation? Isn't that odd?
 And do we ever ask how or why? And why do we even bother? There's no answer forthcoming, is there? Isn't that odd?
  Is it just a perspective deal? Earth. Covered mostly with Water. Okay. We call it earth. Anywhere down we dig and it's molten, lava, hot, hell, liquid too.
 Not stable. Always in perpetual change as it were.
 If not slightly irritated, then at least gently perturbed. Our natural state perhaps? The earth, us? And while people come and go, dreaming and scheming, the earth for the most part, abides, just like The Dude. And yet somehow we know it will all pass. Our lives. Its lives, the planets, stars, all in good time, My Dearie. All in good time. It's good or not good to be a meteor, all atoms aglow, and, Jack, (Mr. London), you're wrong, a planet is not permanent or even sleepy. But, you're right, in relative context, perspective, it is. Humans come and go faster than the heavens, as it were. How do we know this? Why? Because we want to? Because we have to, to survive or exist with any sense of humor, proportion? That we know and or knew all along, this mythos these mysteries, tales, all along the way. Isn't it odd?

Nightmare

Woke from a dream this morning where I was walking along a trail. Horses were buried in the ground all along the way. Some just up to their ankles, others to their knees or bellies, while still others only had heads up. The worst were the noses and ears, all still breathing, very much alive. My hands to my head, crying. The "nightmare" ended there.

IT'S BEEN A TOUGH WEEK

  Not one of our submarines is missing, in fact, it's submerged.
(Que up Thomas Dolby at present for your aural pleasure while reading this.)
   Not many people think of them. Rest assured that U.S. military goes in and out of the 12 mile buffer around China and its "installations" with them as well as their planes and boats.
  Yes, go to sleep at night in comfort, while you're awake, you can read The British online news about how the U.S. spy planes ( they don't say what kind of air craft ), are waved off in unsafe manner, by the Chinese fighter jets, while they, the Pentagon, release to the British press, that boats and planes patrol the 12 mile buffer zones. Yeah, never mind what subs are up to, and, why can't they keep their B-52's airborne? Why did that one in Guam dump it the other day?
The largest aircraft in the world landed late in Perth, Australia the other day, but a commercial Airbus, the bloated 737 type, just went down in the Mediterranean Sea. Why? How? 
  There's a super-sonic jet engine tested the other day, soon we'll be able to fly from Sydney to London in 2 hours. TWO HOURS!!! Think about it. And try to get some sleep. Good Luck. 

LOOK, YOU THINK YOU KNOW EVERYTHING

AND, PERHAPS YOU DO

   But please, realise this: As a "human being", the person observing, changing the thing observed, one has to then ask the then over whelmingly pressing question: What actually do we know, and, what "can" we 'know'?

https://www.brainpickings.org/2012/09/24/f-scott-fitzgerald-responds-to-hate-mail/

 With this here, Francis Scott suggests Literature has more culpability for why we do what we do than all these "rich" guys. Seems like we were wrong to presume Fitzgerald was picking a part life as the scheme as it is, and, since he too was one of them as it were, a "published" and paid author, he's no more our literary hero revealing the truth than yet another one of the disgusting teeming cocksuckers the  world has yet seen fit to rid itself of.
It seems clear, we can trust no one. All are suspect. None should be trusted, even those and the work once held in such high esteem, especially over the norm and what we once thought of as the  cabal of what is, and what they wanted you to believe.
These people should be fixed, broken, and NEVER again be given any more of our time. They are full of lies. They are scum of the most vile sort.

Here's The Thing

We don't want pets, spouses, or offspring. We don't need pets, spouses, or offspring.
We hardly manage as it is. Why must we complicate things?
We've no tattoo's, implants, or mutilations. Our clothes though we still do layers when it's comfortable, fit well. That is to say, we could run in them without having to pull up and then hold onto pants to do so. Colors match or are complimentary. Only some times contrasting, but muted now, not like the harsh assortments we used to display. Nothing so gaudy or flashy anymore. That's about the only real change. It's rare we get just because of the "name", for the recog, as we were heavily into in our younger days. Most folks missed the points on us anyway, sad to say: 'pearls before swine'.
We just want space, a place, some things to do that can at least contribute a little bit socially. If not then definitely not done to harm. However we're not going to have to do everything in the world to please all manner of species and subspecies just to exist.
If LIFE can't figure out we want to be left alone, then LIFE, is fucking stupid!

Since April Two Thousand Six

We've been doing this writing thing in the blog here since April, 2006. It's 2016 now. I don't have the time now to go through this too much but it sure is nice to be able to do this. A few people set it up, allowing us to work this way and to let it happen. I am so grateful! That's my happy easter to everyone. Thanks!

PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE!!

WHO do I have to appeal to? What do I have to do to get internet connectivity 24/7/365?!!!! WHO? WHO? WHO?!!!! WHO THE FUCK IS IN CHARGE? WHAT THE FUCK IS "WRONG"? And WHAT IN THE UNHOLY FUCK IN ABSOLUTE HELL DO I HAVE TO DO TO GET & KEEP THIS GAD-BLASTED BULL-FUCK-SHIT ON, AND ON, FOR EV-OR??!!!!

BLOGGER'S FLICKERING-AS IF I WANT TO BUY THIS BLOG SITE NOW?

Can't stand looking at this blog page. It fucking jumps. Like looking at a goddamn fucking fluorescent light over a kitchen sink and it's flickering. No, I mean fucking clickering. It's buzzing and humming and strobe-light juddering to such an annoying extent. I won't look at a page of it. I've had it with this bullfuckshit!

Lawsuit Complete

 SO, let me get it sorted. 5.7 million dollar (U.S.), is won and the thing is, it came from some COMMENT someone made, (must have been SOME comment), which "offended" someone, and then, they, to 'sort' them out, "planted" drugs on this person, a 'teacher', I think. And then, this person, got, you know, in trouble, probably. But now, obviously, every 'thing' is "all" right. Person could buy a boat now. Now, the person, can hope is, return to 'normal' work, and the students can, in time, do so well that, they buy this person, a 'boat', if they wanted. Yeah. I guess this makes for a "happy" ending.

The Take Away, or Moral, of the "story" would be: Don't fuck with people. Get a thick skin. People are going to say things about you. How bad can it be? Bad enough to plant drugs on someone in order to 'sully' their "reputation"? Fuck that fuck! Talk about hooping up some BAD kharma for yourself. Dumb Move, to say the least. Stupid, outright. Don't do chickenshit like that. Get over it, you know? Sheesh!

Inconclusive Crap

Well, 45 minutes later, and, though my nurse practitioner didn't say anything about what happened or what actually was done, well, she thinks nothing much is, as far as signs go, nothing is probative. So, maybe that's why. Didn't get much of a bead on any thing. Seems like we all just wasted one another's time. Well, that's idiotic of life. Very dumb.

We'll Be Done In Just A Moment

 We'll be done in just a moment, it says but of course it's been saying this in a pop up for almost 2 days now. Such is the life of a patient man on wifi router hook up and nothing else better to do for the time being. Of course, we'll pop down every now and then to check up on the laundry we should have been doing hours and hours ago, but we've been terribly busy reading. Yes, reading. Damn straight. Enough of that wonderful beautiful stuff. We're reading now a book called:
STORIES I TELL MYSELF, by JUAN FITZGERALD THOMPSON. I highly recommend it.

AND SO

 And so, you have a company, you've been dead for low on 100 years, and your company still cranks out stories for the screen that promote moxie driven chutzpah full of it inexperienced youthful people, in this case 2 girls in 2 separate films, and, there could be more, (and this is perfectly fine, but you know I just wish someone buy mine-yes, bitter), ‎who somehow charge over and through all the scenery, catching on in seconds to what would take real people in real life a life time, some of us...and, yeah, it's only a movie and maybe this explains Joseph Campbell's Hero Of A Thousand Faces, but what I know of heroes is that they don't have dog tags, they have toe tags, if even they have a body. They put dog tags away and went on a mission so secret not even their bosses would recognize them or their actions. In fact, maybe they'd be put shot for treason. Who knows? Most of us will NEVER hear of or from them. They're ghosts, appropriately so. They live and they die behind the smokescreen of the cognoscenti the powers that be want you to believe is the 'reality of the world'. They, these heroes make the real sacrifices. And film makers and actors are no heroes, but do get life handed to them to make films and act in films life lived by heroes, which real people in turn may want really to emulate, and that is a dangerous thing, esp sic we find out some times later we went off to war only because a president had a small dick complex or wanted to marry his third cousin twice removed, or whatever bunch of dog shit as that. It's not only unconscionable, it's untenable, to, for, of, by, me, but, it happens. It exists, and, well, it will continue to, I reckon, forever, because humans are simply incapable of changing out of their wicked nature's for long. They're basically UN-REDEEMABLE! They thwart abdicate, threaten and thrive it seems on torture and killing of one another, any old thing to get what for them it seems real as love for their own damned selves. Yes. That's right. They all seem to do it, for LOVE. Yes. I know. It gives it a foul head up a frog's ass taste in y'all's mouth, don't it? And so, what's the point in all this crap, all these "shenanigans"? Nothing, I don't reckon. And so, there it is. Life in a nut shell. Peanuts, for, some are good and some bad. So what? And so.

26650 BATTERY TO KEEP ON GOING

STEVE HARVEY wishing everyone a Merry Easter was an odd headline for me, getting on line the other day. I'd just come to the conclusion that, we're all planets or bubbles, and going for happiness is the thing.
Saw a movie or a snippet of a classic with Cary Grant as this angel or something pouring wine into glasses over and over again with just a pointing of his black and white finger film so old...and then he said something about us all being from different planets and it's how or why we're all unique and what makes things interesting. I recalled an old article in Mirabella, the long defunct, to my knowledge women's magazine where someone quoted Unamuno saying inside our heads are universes, and thought rang out where we're all searching for happiness, and if you want, you can put 100 dollar bills rolled up inside those plastic Easter eggs and shove them up your arse. And, if you want you can hop out naked in your back yard, with bunny ears and a big fluffy cotton tail, fangs with blood and poop out the eggy-weggs for all the neighborhood children if you enjoy that kind of thing. You know? MERRY EASTER!!! Whatever floats your boat melts your butter turns your stomach or what as that. I mean, it'd be foolish to tell a psychopath or even a sociopath to DO YOUR OWN THING, but, basically it's what we all want for our selves...to do whatever the thing is that moves us, finds us in bliss and be able to do it forever. To do so and be in contentment. Making it happen and not being interrupted or permanently stopped or even slightly waylaid all along the way. That's it in a "nut" shell, right?

PLEASE SELECT FROM OUR LIST OF SUPPORTED BROWSERS

PLEASE SELECT FROM OUR LIST OF SUPPORTED BROWSERS

 At least blogger suggests that you can't write with them any more, and tumblr just ignores you. While actually, both with some due diligence, allow you to write with them from your pc, only blogger of the two allows me still to send posts via email, without any extra text and allows me to see on the dashboard page, the whole posted text. Tumblr on the other hand posts extra text and if you are on the dashboard page, the title is the only thing that is revealed, and, I cannot edit it at all.
 Word Press works in any set circumstances, but, so, why don't I use it more? I cannot understand why I just won't delete my accounts. I don't even post on livejournal any more, or haven't in yonks. That one takes a special deal of using my pin number to do it via email. I cannot handle any of this dogshit any more. Why I even fucking bother. I want Tumblr to work, because my posts are right there with others in an ongoing live post with like minded idiots vis-à-vis facebook. Like real clever people on it instead of the crap shit fb has, which is why I've all but left it behind.

well at least

At least blogger works and wordpress works as far as writing an email and not having to get all this diacritical markings bullfuckshit in the text body of the blog post. But not tumblr. Oh no. I can blog from the desktop browser and not get it, but not from sending an email from the phone. I used to be able to, but somehow yahoo happened and all that got changed. No wonder people get all bent out of shape. I w....

YOU ARE SO RUDE!!

  I'm so rude and crude online. But, damnit, I'm not getting what I want need or am implicitly promised when it comes to internet or wireless "service", and the internet is dogshit of late. Probably because it's all you know, another shooting. Someone goes off. Well, Colorado. Guns and Dope. DUH!? Dunno. Dunno. Dunno. Dunno. At least we just are rude with words and we self immolate. It really should be a practice for more people. People should NEVER be able to strike out at another person, whether it's with guns knives or drones. People should just blow up from the inside, you know? There should be rooms booths alongside highways and in office buildings with vents and sound proofing. It's no one else's fault for your anger outburst right? Go off by your self and destruct on your own, sans harming another soul or property, you know what I mean? Even the Buddhist monks in Vietnam, they'd just douse their self in petroleum and flicker Bic or Zippo and be done with it.

Just Who Are All These Jackasses?

Who are all these jackasses at 6 o'clock in the morning in their nylon jackets and shorts, socks with slip-on sandals and messed up head hair going into the coffee shops on Saturday mornings late November before the sun comes up? High Blood Pressure Testosterone Supplement quaffing assholes out for the paper before more ball games begin on the TV?
You and I both can't stand these people and it's not enough to take our guns away but we won't shoot them. No way. The world needs assholes. What else is there to write about but love? When there's anger and hate, it's well defined. Words come together, feeling's divine. Just like love, forever and ever. All down through the ages and ages. So Be It. The End.

CAN'T UNDERSTAND

 Can't understand why they tell you things are fantastic over here or there, and, you pay them money and get over there, however, a red hot fire-poker iron rod is rammed up yer arse and no one said dick about any thing before hand. Besides which, nothing is like they say and they continue to say things are like that, "paradise" they describe.

THiNGS AS THEY ARE

I love BLOGGER. I can get on the site and write away. At least on the phone I can. Not that I want to. It's far simpler and easier and thank the gods at Blogger for making it easy, to do an email and post.
But Shiva help you post from the desktop. All manner of hell greets you there. Yeah. You need a new browser, it quips. Fuck You, Blogger. Nothing's "wrong" with my goddamn browser. What's wrong is YOUR fucking sod-ware that doesn't work with pc desktops any more. THAT'S what's "wrong".

Secret Society's Super Secrets Places

SUBTITLE: It's A Confederacy Of Dunces or, Stupid Is As Stupid Does

http://a.msn.com/01/en-us/BBndeHQ?ocid=se

 A man asked why was this written in the comments section. I replied, and had a hell of a job ‎NOT being able to simply copy cut and paste in an email, what I wanted to do here.  

 The guy, whose name is Richard, obviously a dick, asked why was this article done and then why did he read it. 

 It was the comments, embedded in fb and I wrote in the available window:

WHY RICHARD? It's here/there, and, not a lot of people know about it, or the ancillary links too, are of interest to read. Plus, one might now seriously consider joining a college in Utah to do a "career" in computers, but, heh-heh, if you're nice, fill in some of the required electives courses by selecting some ETHICS classes. ;)

 But I was NOT able to get my goddamn brand fucking new computer to copy after selecting, and paste to the email, this message. I instead, as a work around, sent 2 fucking messages to my gmail account, which I have inboxing here on my phone, and then opened, here on my phone, a new message, from my Web based other email account, a new message, to this otherwise pain in the arse web-blog, I've had problems with this weekend and past week and month...but I digress, because I do. I mean, I tried to get it done in a cockument yes cockument and I saved it and changed the format and tried that too, to send it, but even that, my goddamn brand fucking new computer couldn't wouldn't co-operate and allow me to put all the text in one place to do this fucking simple dumbassed thing: All these words, in this place, as a blog post. The End. (For Now)

 

 Yeah, and even THAT email trick, and, why's it a fucking trick? Why does it have to be? The simple fucking email doesn't print/show on the blog page. Some it does, I'm speaking in general, and some, only the title shows, but no body of the text. It depends on if I'm looking at the dashboard or not, or something, and then, so too, there's this: I can't just simply do things. The internet computing it's all supposed to be just that! Why won't it comply? Confederacy Of Dunces! It's Stupid, As Stupid Does!!! THE END, Of This Entry Of NONSENSE. 

At least THIS one works!!! Fucking Suck on That, Tumblr!

Test Subject Reality Starr

Starr Williams was once the biggest star in the rodeo (row-day-oh) circuit, of the 30's & 40's, (The 2030 & 2040's). She/He messed about on the open plain and took on all comers, goers, and everyone or anyone in-between. She/He wasn't shy about furiously demonstrating STARR's ability, capability, compatability, resilience, adaptability, compliance, and intestinal fortitude towards involvement in, of, to, for, LIFE! Life, with all cylinders firing, all bolts blown and pistons pumping, or, at least all forms of the stuff of stars burning!

The Paul Lynde Halloween Special (1976)

Don't Do Drugs, Kids!

It All Reminds Me How Dumb Every Thing Is

 Stupid guy or dream about some dipshit who, having met his near infant son the day before at work, having said hello, returns and, in an improvisational non-impulse on my part, I was just was wherever I was mentally and emotionally and physically, and I just went with it, my odd situation. 

 Which was, working, minding my own business, and the guy and his son presumably, show up, and he the father, foists the son on me. I'm cradling the lad in my arms, and you know, in a moment of love, of life, a gesture, shake my arms back and forth, sort of like I was jolted by an electrical charge. Looking at the kid, and he me, we are not in pain or fear, just are in the moment and we say, look who's here! Who have we here? Or some idiotic statement of non-definition what ever. And, then, the father who foisted, takes him and hands him off and I don't see to whom. He the father is zeroed in on my eyes, and is ready for lawsuit like I'm the crazy infant shaker syndrome. And I'm just so bowled over I don't know how to deal with it. I'm walking away, silent, stunned, and, this idiot has locked eyes with me and is all manner so self-righteously inc‎ensed. Like I'm the instigator and propagator and problem. Holy Fucking COW! After I gather my wits, I begin to ask, well, where's your son? Where's your son? What did you do with your baby? And he's all, he's with his other father. And om I'm okay, thinking to my self. Say nothing. Saying nothing. Thinking, just keep walking. I'm walking. He the Foisting Father Out For Lawsuit, is walking with me and zeroed in my eyes with lock look crazy pursuit. I'm walking home back to my apartment. I get to the locked metal screen exterior door of it, and he's already there, opening it up and going inside, amidst other tennants, doing the same. I'm real nervous to say the least, approaching fear for my life and frustration as well. What in HELL is this dickshits' PROBLEM? Is he in love with me? Stalker obsessed? How asinine! What ever in hell did I do to him? I don't know him from the man in the moon. He comes to my place of work and entraps me in some bullfuckshit shenanigans, for what-dumb-fuck-ever "logic" he's got going in his labyrinthine innerscope, and I'm infinitely part parcel his magnum opus, and, am powerless it seems to me, to extricate myself of this madness. That to me is what life is from time to time. I recall, after talking to him, with the kid, and his putting the kid off some place, or to someone, another occasion, this before I walked, and he followed before he disappeared and then suddenly re-appeared later at my/his/our apartment building, being at work, and there being, and this is the funny part, 2 different dogs. 2 of same I saw this past week for real, at work, owned by 2 different owners. 1, a young bulldog, not even a year old. 2, a gray, great dane dog, spotted weakly, by some spots on his coat, like a dalmation. I pet one then the other, and then, went away. Then the guy follows me to the apartment. Sort of like the latest James Bond film. It (these both), made no real sense, logically, as they were fiction, in the true sense of no real sense to them that the guy is in a building which blows up in a film, and in my dream is there at work. Both disappear, then reappear, fine and presumably dandy, only to torture us mercilously, in some preposterous, intricate, complicated scheme, that, in real world time, would take months to plan, and they'd both have to BE me, if they knew I'd be going to such and such place after, and look for and fall for which and whatever just so. Impossible But True. Such is life. Quite stupid and idiotic from time to time. Have to laugh at it, so sad. But we do get and go consequently because of its maddening permutations insane from time to time. AAAAAARRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!

Simply Having A WONDERFUL CHRISTMAS TIME

Yup, nice song. Wonderful, clever, ever so "cheeky" tune. Cloyingly, sickeningly effective, but gat-damned annoying! Yes, BAD timing. It's NOVEMBER, fucking 13^th, a FRIDAY no less, and I'm trying to enjoy my coffee and egg/cheese/and un-cooked, bacon croissant, while the twin blonds are in the corner, one hacking their lungs out sick, and this lame-arsed,  musick selection comes on through the speakers, annnnnnd I'm OUT side. Like I had planned. There in my nylon, Kuhl brand, cargo pocket, shorts, pinch-free, Duluth Trading, underwear, thick socks, black leather, Nike, All Conditions Gear, (ACG, except for this one, they're much too small. They've always hurt my feet, in fact, my top left smashed ever for sharp in pain effective, forever. Bought originally for work on The Matterhorn. ), and my black, Fruit of The Loom, short-sleeved, single, left-pocket shirt, under my long-sleeved, white, crew-neck, compression shirt, from Russell Athletics, my mock turtle-neck shirt, (long sleeves of course) and black, from J.Crew or L.L.Bean, or maybe Land's End, my ICE-BREAKER half-zip specialized wool shirt, and over that, finally, my heavy but movable black Minus 33 Degrees hoody, almost all of these items made in CHINA, with the cotton exceptions, they're made in Honduras or Mexico, funny, I'm out on the sidewalk with all the stupid people and their stupid dogs. They all have stupid fucking dogs.

NEW COMPUTER HAVE TO START WORD ALL OVER AGAIN WITH THE FILES...YOU KNOW, WORD/MOVIE MASTER TOO...

Mine Gud. But my internet connection is slow. At least I have a new computer and I am writing on it. It has the 2T storage I wanted when I put a digital package on the old one. I have nothing on this machine and I'm really just hoofing it. I will eventually get internet like we all should have, from right here in my room. And then it will sing, right? Or, I just might be able to do school online from when ever....Wish Me Luck

testing my pc is crap these days I am heartbroken but spirit lies

Wonder how this thing works, and if it does. In life we live despite our selves or our own best interests or natural instinctual flow. In fact we spend a life time wasting what energies we have perhaps alloted maybe not, on fighting idiotic systems, those of life and it's random frustrationals, and those of human kind, through, no fault of its own, has made it nearly impossible to write a letter to someone, asking them for something, getting a response in a timely manner, and getting it sorted in a few days. Nope, the whole damned affair is a cock up tits up waste. Fuck it! Or rather, don't! Damn it all. Wish we could. Start over. With this knowledge! Ultimately nothing matters. How fucking depressing is that? That's your answer or secret message they tell you but don't tell you near the end of that Think and Grow Rich, positive mental attitude book, from way back when. Either that is the most zazen book in the world, or it as well can go to complete oblivion, like that book of books called book-bible. Don't mix linen and wool. Nonsense! What horse shit. Damn, even horse shit has more use than that advice. Nothing matters. Well, of course it does, from the scientific point of view. Hmm. Pondering on.

Hot Dry Weather Welcome To Fall In Southern California

 FUG! Every fugging year it's the same thing. Why doesn't anyone, the one's who complain about how ugly dry hot it is, the Santa Ana/Santana's Wind(s), those counter clockwise winds/front, coming down from northern Utah/Nevada, picking up speed as they get here, well, it makes people go crazy, it does, and so what? EVERY YEAR, esp sic at about NOW, there's this 'wind', and constant dry skin crinkly itchy irri-fecki-tating "condition", and people complain like, it's FALL! There's no FALL weather. No rain. Sure there is. From time to time there's rain, and though I know it's been dry and a 100 year drought going on, more people now than 100 years ago here. We buy our water and we punish our citizens for using it, and they scrimp and save and we don't use as much and have to charge them higher prices next year and it's just not fair. Farmer's use the most, but so what? STOP complaining. You're Stupid! REMEMBER! Each and every year, it's the same damn thing. The rains really hit in JANUARY/FEBRUARY. So Shut The Front Door. I don't want to hear about it any more.

At Least Here We Can Jump Up To The Title Box...

 Create a title, before we begin, and then easily enough jump down here and write away and not have the conniptions like we have with TUMBLR of late. DAMN, that blog site, once the deal, so easily appealed, esp sic mobile applications.
 And what IS wrong with this ol' desktop that it defies the hold of fricken time management, goes on instantly with the power-strip? WHAT? Mystery thickens? I've reverted back to an old time/date or the Restore Point...and, working with this thing, have turned it on and off a couple of times, including turning off the power strip, and it's only just revealed, the clock's not 'moving'. So, whatever, eh? It's on and working now, but, when turned off? What? All that magic stuff...no. Well, never mind. Been threatening to get a new computer...and...besides an old thing where a virus company called and I updated the browser...well, downloaded software for...but, it's I dunno. Never DID see the click here open it up box thing...so, who knows what? Quien Sabe Que?

SOME THOUGHTS OF LATE

 Why is this important and that not? There were 19 shooting incidences in L.A., just last week, but Oregon gets the press. WHY? It's all terrible, horrible, inevitable, stupid, lame, insane. And all of us must ask: WHY?!

 So too we must all of us ask really and truly, what REALLY will put an end to it. I mean SERIOUSLY. One would have to CHANGE inextricably, forever, human behavior, I think, to be honest, in order for this NEVER to occur EVER again, which I think is everyone's goal, esp sic all those so hell bent on removing everyone's ability to defend their selves against all enemies, foreign and domestic. Really. I mean, come on, let's be honest here. Let's be "REAL". 

 How could it? HOW could things change? Even if you went around and took away everyone's gun from their dead, cold and lifeless hands. I'm sure the outlaws would find guns if need be in their sense of the world, if teachers or ex-military were armed and employed protecting the schools, and all the legal stuff was duly worked. It seems it'd still happen. I mean people still have fucked with planes, commercial jet air liners, and we've been reacting and over reacting AFTER the fact. And so what if we all consider whatever we do next, as being PRO-ACTIVE. It's all a bunch of bullshit. We lose it. We're humans. And some do so much more than others. It's news, it's crimes, it's blood, guts, gore, sensation and more. What Can You Do?

 What ultimately is the goal, stop behavior(s), or the litigation from the behavior? 

 Eons ago you drove your car sans seat belts. You road the tram without doors. People played with lead based paint. So what? Now all of us are "protected". There are seat belts, though we're not racing them. There are doors and signs and announcements on the trams. My car causes cancer. My place of work uses things which causes cancer. My drinks, according to the signs on the shelves, causes cancer. And since there's a sign, a warning, head's up, you can't sue. No lawsuit pending...but what in the fuck?

 Can you litigate proof every thing? Can you just de-incentivize people from doing whatever behavior you find objectionable? You're the one who's fussy. 1 complaint and the whole world has to change for you. How did you get all this power? How did my friend explain it over breakfast this morning? And, it's one thing I found to be true as well, that, the person most offended, is THE one who through their own public action, offends the most, and claims First Amendment Rights, etc. FUCK THAT SHIT! 

  Go do whatever you want to do in the privacy of your own humble abode. I really don't give a shit. Just don't make the air/water/land and or laws of the land, so restricting for the rest of us, because you've complained and won lawsuits too many times to the point you get to have the world we share, exactly the way YOU want it to be.

 The ironic thing is, we all want I think things to be precisely how it is we find most comfortable, and, leave the other person out in the cold or heat: don't fuck them, at least not in the way they want. No Golden Rule here. Gimmie What I Want/Need, Too Bad for the rest.

 Well, in my synapse, that just doesn't fly! I think y'all ought shut the hell up and get whatever it is melting your butter, done behind closed shutters, and, I don't need to know or care what you give a rat's arse for/on, you know?

ATTRACTIVE

인정할게. 그건 매력적인 제안이야.

English example:

I admit, it is an attractive offer.

   IN ANY language, getting rid of all the guns lawyers money, SOUNDS attractive.

Katrina NOT LOOKING BACK

 Biggest greatest gift I see in all this is not hokey news programs and magazine articles about one of the biggest storms of our lives and horrible aftermath, government malfeasance maybe, ineptitude, etc. Is the RESILIANCE and PERSEVERANCE that, folks who survived, because many lost lives among other things, but how the living move on!

Wakey-Wakey!

Just...we're trying to wake up. Dreaming of doing our business over a plastic bucket in the dark, in an oppressive humid heat over 100 degrees. Earlier, or before, we had the dream of being in a monastery or abbey. Walking around alone into and out of places and spaces we weren't supposed to be in. Mostly empty, these rooms with few adornments, one guy in a robe came in and told us to get out. Hmm, typical. Whatever. So what? Who cares? Can't we go back to sleep or at least, have a proper, cool, clear, and clean place to do the business? A-men!

Looking For A Nutritionist

 So, I looked up an address for the local Nutritionist and followed not much of anything but instinct, and by golly, it was replaced by a Snow Monster! In my fit of pique, I opted for 2, glazed, "vegan", blueberry, cake doughnuts. I think it was a good choice, for a 12 year old boy who doesn't know any thing about nutrition, and the deleterious effects of eating a bunch of crap!

THE NEW SOFTWARE OF THIS BLOGGER SITE DOESN'T LIKE MY OLD BROWSER SOFTWARE

Yeah, and I don't care. I am I think and have thought a couple of times, to back up my photos and text and oh, I'll have to you know, get my Final Draft software down too. Yeah. Ok. New computer on the horizon is next. Yeah. So much new stuff. Why do you have to buy a new damn computer every what, 10 years? Has it been that long? Really? Well, yeah, if this came on line in 2005. Damn. That's way too long I think. Way too long. I need a new machine, eh? New software. The new windows browser, yeah. But, a tower, and a cd player and yeah, a level one. Because this one, it's vertical, and, been a pain. Real pain. Yeah. Okay. Moving on. Moving on. Have to go to bed. Really. Sleep.

OK

‎New phone. New set up. How do I lose that signature bit at the bottom again?

Dumb Shit

You know, everyone and their brother can tell you that: "They don't tell you that..." and, so, you can just fill in the blank with whatever that is. YOU "know" it to be "true", that is to say, it's in your heart, no doubt, that what is presented, is, unequivocally, sound. Veritas. I say to you, the 'TRUTH', in capital letters. WHY do we persist with the bullshit? Because it's the system and we just let it roll on down the hill because we can't change it, as a leopard cannot change its spots. It is what it is, etc. This is THE most insidious, hideous, vile, heinous, load of dingo's kidneys the world has on offer, and I vehemently reject it, outright!!!

JUST BECAUSE

Just because you have an idea, doesn't mean life is going to make it happen for you. As hard as you work, despite obstacles and mischief managed, it STILL doesn't follow that it will "HAPPEN". IT just doesn't work that way.

And you can say that your a real cool cat, you have the right religion or sexual preference and you can post some kind of idiotic diatribe that says people should post dozens of likes and reposts and things of this nature, just because, doesn't mean that it's going to work out for you. It just doesn't, and that's ALL THERE IS TO IT!!

Minutiae Nothing

WHY must you put mustard or ass-gassing loosey goosey AVOCADO, where it doesn't belong? Say, on seared Ahi Tuna? In a wheat bun? Sure, tastes great, less filling, but unless you're on OPIATES (Is everyone on opiates but me? And, should I be?), which are known arse-stoppers, (constipators), there's no reason to have wasabi mustard, or any other kind of mushroom-avocado-smeary-butt leakage, "FOOD", in your system. I've no problems "going", okay?
I can eat sushi without wasabi thank you very much. Most places put entirely TOO much of it on there and you wonder, what's "wrong" with the fish? I eat and enjoy eating a lot of different types of raw fish. No problem getting rid of it either. NO problem.
And you mushroom people, you don't even do mushrooms that feed your head-cordyceps-or help your immune system-astragalus-eh? You fart around with these plate-sized portobellos or vegetable up your dishes, with these canned, button-willows, that don't even taste very good.
If I have a need to "go", and have some thinking I need to do, I'll have some shilajit, please, and, THANKS!

AVIAN NONSENSE

There is a bird what sings an ugly annoying song...

Yeah the bird up front seems to be saying Hey, Look Up Here, Look Up Here! Or, Look At You, Look At You! Or, What's With You, What's With You? All depending on your mood when you wake up on account of its incessant chirping, mocking jay nonsense. It flies back and forth, back and forth, like it has a blocked bowel, and is crying in pain. Hops from one back yard to another, and over and over again, to make sure all and sundry are awake and know full well its message, sage words no doubt, spoken in a language only those of its kind can understand. Unique, Cute, Hunh?

RUN!!! BUT WHERE TO? THE SEA!

66 degrees at 4:39 of a Sunday morning. RUN!!! It takes a couple of days for the water to heat up in the pool when the surrounding temperatures have risen. Despite how hot it is outside. Yeah. Run! Or not. Swim. Not for me. Not today. Rough night. Went so many places, not all of them pretty, friendly, or fun. One such was on a thin, narrow beam, down to a, ah, er, uhm, 'sunless sea'. And the word was, imminent, well, eminent, as in eminent domain. They, those who were facing ocean front property in Arizona, were told;  "We're going to take your houses away and start the war". That was the story and people were deciding whether to end their lives at that point, but some little voice inside said NO! Not going to do that. And somehow it stopped. The nightmare had ended and it was all over from there.

Crusades R US

‎Why are we all so nervous, raw, twisted, wrong? What's with all the misdirected, prestidigitation by the powers that be? Do we instinctively sense that looming, 'something wrong', just around the river bend?

Is the U.S. Economy going to take a dive when the dollar dies? The rich are well taken care of, of course, naturally. No question there. But what about the rest of us? Too stupid to wait on tax filing, hurriedly done. Dutiful, and now, later of course, we'll see the ways being erred? To err is human after all. Too bad so many of us cannot forgive, and thus, will never experience divine.

 Why in hell on this earth, can we not leave one another alone? Do we actually realize how critical we are of each other? Can we? Do we do so this criticism out of insecurity over our own ineptitude and inequalities? We're not like the others. No shit, and neither should we be, but so too, we probably shouldn't be critical. No way should we judge and jury everyone in the court of public opinion. Yeah, we string one another up with reckless abandon. This too, same thing, in a way, even though it's meant as a cautionary or, well, rant in and of itself really, isn't it? Yeah, it's that too. But, hey, Zeus, this constant Public / Monkey Mind-Set Diurnal Crucifixion Contest Crap, should fricken STOP! (Just saying, right?)

Light Where There Wasn't Any Before

Heaven was dark. Spock dies, and then:

"Suddenly, there was light in the dark room." Someone says, in Hangul. A pretty, tall, Koren-born woman, with long, black hair, speaking in an Australian accent, when she says it in English.

 And actually, also on this date, (in 2003 was it?), Fred Rogers, "MR. ROGERS", died. Yes. True. Correct. Just a few days ago, Venus, Mars and the Moon were all sorted out near one another. Heck, just a couple of days ago, I noticed Jupiter in the East, Moon overhead, and then in the West, Venus and nearby but slightly off that line, tiny red light Mars. Not too shabby for some celestial shenanigans. Wonder what they were up to on this date in 2003? Can someone find out for me? No one cares, SpongeBob, I know. But, it'd be nice to know, see if any of this correlates. It doesn't, but would be cool if it did.

 

 

Why Aubrey de Grey Takes an Interdisciplinary Approach to Aging

Watch this video I found on Vimeo: https://vimeo.com/113547876

‎Great, another f-tard who has facial hair and can still manage to convince people to pay him in order to live a life in the manner he's accustomed. P.T. Barnum was correct. Every minute. Or maybe not. Who cares? I can't. And I'm NOT going to be completely satisfied until I can do what my innate talent says I can and be paid in order to live in the manner to which I'm accustomed. Nothing Else Matters Right Now. NOTHING!

THURSDAY -- My Friday

‎THUR. FEB. 19th, 2015

  Ten years ago, this weekend, there was a storm over the south land. Reports also suggest, possibility of rain, this weekend. Ten years ago I was contemplating a trip to Los Angeles, just like I was then. Back then, Hunter Stockton Thompson was alive and then he killed himself. I hope I never do that. Wish or so wished I could write for a living, but it appears I'm doing this, have been, at a place, which, has been here 60 years in July of this year, and the ride I work, in the building I'm in a lot and am scheduled in today, it as well, has been in existence, ten (10) years, this March, 17th. This May, we'll start our work's 60 year celebration. My Dad, moved to Mexico 10 years ago. Imagine that!

 I'm grateful for the supremely easy simple ride I've had, all these years, and though I still complain about fits and stops and false starts that go nowhere, I keep on going, so far, so good, I guess. I'm one of the lucky ones. One of the luckiest ones around.

 Never wanted a man or woman to be my partner, not full time all around. At least not a man, not like that. A woman, sure, pure, beautiful images, wants, desires, but none of it included kids, children, offspring. Ridiculous. In what I call, this world. No. Absolutely not. Feel a little bad for my parents I mean if that's what they've wanted for me. I've only wanted to be able to take care of my self. So far, I've not done that completely very successfully, so, I've reason to live, plenty, and goals to accomplish, I'd say, I guess. Moving on. I've got friends and one major enemy. The friends are loyal great and few. The enemy is you know who. The one you look at in the mirror, the one inside, the one who doesn't always hide or keep its foul mouth shut. Hoo!

 Not much reading accomplished and more books/reading material acquired. What a waste. So too clothing. Get rid of it, the excess. Trim down, Slim. Cut it out! Cancer growing? Melting down. Burning out. Molding on. Who knows what crap is going on, eh? Geez, please. Get it going, get it gone, get it done already, and, move on!!! School Online. Class. DO something other, DO something else!! NOW!!!

Saint Valentino's Day

SAT. FEB. 14th, 2015
  They say, all you need is love. Money would be nice. In this world I need that in order to live with love. Actually, it's all about POWER! I'd rather have the instant immediate 'power' to do and not do, whatever I want, whenever I want, and, however I want. THAT'S what it's all about, forget about that ever elusive hokey-pokey!!!
-----
 You want power, tuned in and turned on. You want power to feel better and help others feel better, in an instant of pain or disgrace; calamity, injustice. POWER, tuned in, and, turned on. POWER.
  Essentially, it's authority. You want it, and you don't want your self having to fight it, like some Cougar or Mellencamp John, who always fights it, but, authority, always wins. No. Even Eddie Cochran, he fought the law, and the law won. That's a loss of power or control, over one's life. In this world, that's what it's truly all about, forget about all that 'jiggery-pokery', movie flim-flam, 'preverted', Dr. Strangelove stuff. You Want Power/Control, over life, over your own life, over death, essentially. Yikes! What am I saying here?
------
 We want basically the ability to know and to take care of what we know. This is what made you sick or killed so-n-so. Well then, let's do this that, the other, and put a stop to that, right away, you know? Isn't that what it's all about? Power, right? Control, over all the elements as it were?
-----
 I love it when things go my way. Hate it when things go away from me.
 Love is, a store needing to be open at 7 a.m., when you happen to be driving by, and it is. Love is, dropping your pen cap when you grab your coffee from the drive through window lady, but the guy in the car behind you doesn't pull up into the space you left behind, in order for you to walk back there and pick it up, without being run down, without being hurt, and having to live with that, for the rest of your life. Yeah, that's love.
  Love is needing from the store the purified fish oil caps and you're not finding them, anxious, having to go to the bathroom, and having a store that always has one available, easy access, even when the odd thing of a broken urinal's involved. You exit said bathroom and then you go back to the shelf to look at fish oil and you find it, THE one you want, AND, it's on SUPER SALE, mark down discount.
  (Better take them now, right? They must be old? BAH! Negative. They have a lot. Willing to be generous, give. In this case, a break on the pricing.)
  Well, that's love, and I like that. No? I LOVE that.
-----
  But you/we don't have a lot of control over things. And things though they might be reminders, or triggers, it doesn't mean you have to pull them. Some of them, right. Buttons you have to press, yes. But meanwhile, it's all about what's happening inside you, inside, all of us. We control it, but not always. Some times we do and we love it. Some times we don't, and we hate it. But, it is what it is. This is this. And, it is the truth. This much is true. I know this much is true.
------

When Things Go Wrong

    I'd do anything, to turn you on...well, except maybe for that. That, I would NOT do. No, I'd NEVER do that.
    What was it you were trying to say? How was that? You were saying something. Trying for something somehow. I didn't understand. No, not quite that, but, something. Something else. Quite. Yeah. WHAT? I don't know. No. Not that. Not anyhow. Never. Anyway. Not no way, not no how. Hmm. What was it?

THE or ANYTHING

    It occurs that an organization of thoughts themes concepts has to take place. There's too much going on, so much to do, and it appears, and I so feel, that I'm not able to properly deal with it all.

    A moth, about seven inches in diameter arrives. Now, sure, it's winter and so when do moths appear? Are you in a place where they're year around and appearances aren't noticeable? Not for me, not for that size and so, especially so, after what occurred in the big life event of, my Aunt just had a stroke, and it coincidentally occurred on a day or night prior to...the moth was happening at the same time as near I can tell and it seems this is or was a portent, an omen, and in this case, it wasn't of the moth's demise, but degradation in the life of a loved one, and I can't communicate with them, nor can they communicate with me. Had a previously passed loved one signaled a warning, a head's up? Did I miss it? Should I have thought, figured, to look more?

 

FOR YOUR READING PLEASURE

‎NO. NO NO NO. Just because it's a book, a story, fact, or legend, doesn't necessarily make it great or even good. A book, the laws, rules, regulations, philosophy, psychological intent, the forces which commence after the ideas, knowledge inside, are taken and made action upon doesn't for all make good. Once you believe in a book, it doesn't always follow you're better, or that the world is. Not no way, not no how. 

 THIS doesn't mean the book has to be burned, destroyed completely, or banned, kept from libraries, schools, bookstores, or general use. It should still exist. Just because. It's a record. It's valuable knowledge. The information can illuminate for example, say, how stupid we can be. How ignorant we were. Knowing about its existence could be just enough. A good or great motivation for doing, being better, trying for our best behavior. Some times the best response in a situation or circumstance,  is NO RESPONSE. None whatsoever.

-----

Tomorrow's A New One

 Yeah, tomorrow's a new day. We'll we all hope a good one is made of it. Hope is we can relax and recuperate, whatever befalls.

I KEEP GETTING ERROR MESSAGES BUT...

 Yeah, there are these error messages popping up, but I'm still able to write, post, go from page to page. This is wonderful. Here now with a better connection than we've had before, and it's pleasing to say the least. We are so darn grateful. Hope is, we can continue to keep this going and make something more out of life, not just grind on down to damageville/dwindling on to dwindleville, complications leading to complications until finally we're gone!!

ESOTOURIC'S Eastside Babylon

Went on the bus, finally, Saturday, the 13th, of December. It went well. I found the cafe, The Daily Dose, and parked 2 blocks away, at a grocery store where there's a video explaining to anyone with an electronic vehicle, how to plug it in.
 Enjoyed the professionalism and thorough attention to detail everyone brought on board. I learned a lot and was able to contribute. I only hope next time I bring earplugs, or find a seat in back with a blown speaker above my seat, because it was too loud for me. I heard Richard, Kim, and Joan, all with ease, which to me, working as a carny, and having some issues from birth with regard to hearing, sinus issues, blockage, it was a surprise. I'm eagerly devouring Kim's latest book, THE KEPT GIRL, and look forward to Joan Renner's work as well. The future will definitely see me on board another bus very soon.

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.
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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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