his name is Spencer

I was having a particularly bad day one day. As I pulled into the 7-11 parking lot, I noticed a man. He was elderly, had a cane, and was in obvious pain. He was exiting the passenger side of an old pontiac. The driver was a young girl, presumably his granddaughter. I sat in my hyndai for a minute and lit a smoke. I watched her help the gentleman from the car and he was in obvious pain. I got out of my car and slowly walked past the pair. As I did, the old guy caught my eye and when he did he smiled. I said, "Good evening sir!" He responded, "Hi there!" He was slumped over, had a bulge on his back, and his legs made noise as he moved. I mean this guy was in real pain yet he still managed to give me, a complete stranger, a soft smile and a hello. I walked in the store and got some more reds and a giant pepsi. God knows if I don't have a pepsi I will lose the few marbles I still have. As I walked out of the store the girl and the old man were walking toward the door still on the blacktop. They were too quick for me as I wanted to at least hold the door open for them. I walked by them as they stepped on the curb just outside the store. Again he smiled as his arm was being steadied by his helper. It was obvious she had a great deal of affection for this man who had to be bordering on the edge of 90. I picked up the smoke I left on the concrete outside and proceeded to walk to my hyundai. That's right, screw capital letters! I got to my car after engulfing about 4 cups of soda; just enough to get me back to my home shit home. I sat there thinking to myself for a few minutes. I got to thinking that here is a man, a complete stranger, in tremendous pain, elderly, and still he managed to acknowledge me on what was a horrible and forgettable day for me. Here I was moaning and groaning on the inside about me and my issues; which are many, and I somehow felt calmer. I thought,"Who am I to consider myself to be so screwed?" "What kind of person am I to be so pissed off about my little problems?" I have a full belly, a pack of smokes, a soda, and a hyundai. Even though I have issues myself with pain, I know that by comparison I am relatively well off. I mean this guy was most likely in the War man. He has probably been through more shit than I ever will, and I sure is Hell know I will never see 90. Anyway, I wanted to talk with this man, but I know how that would have looked. Needless to say by the end of the night my problems were still there, but somehow they seemed more managable. I could see that maybe in time my problems would cease. I don't know, but I do know one thing; that night I will take with me where ever I go. Not as reminder by comparison, but as a way of maneuvering myself around the difficult times by keeping the bigger picture in mind. This world is an awefully big place, and the universe is even larger. The temporary spot I now occupy is of little consequence to the spirit inside. I guess sometimes the spirit inside relies on other spirits to set things straight. Maybe that man was there for a purpose. Maybe the soft smile he gave me was a reminder that the body dies but the spirit of a man/woman never does. I take that man with me now wherever I go. In my mind his name is Spencer. In my mind he will never die. Maybe that is what spirits are all about. I don't know, but Spencer may someday tell me, and I will surely listen.

unmagnificent not

The shadows on the wall are no longer you. Now they have become what they were intended to be, a distant memory. Shadows rely on the light that shines from behind but does not penetrate the one that lies on the inside. Motion is determined not by the one who made the light, but instead requires the form to create the design of you the exterior. To find the requiring light on the inside, one needs to crack the door just enough to sample the irrepressable goodness and warmth of the designer. To be open is to be clear, concise, and reasonable only to a point. There comes a time when reason must be cast out in order to formulate new reasons for living. The spector of the lost looms heavy on the ones who find the same in everything they do. Were it not for lack of reason, the world would truely be unmagnificent and joyless. LLC 98.2

light brite

To hold back you, to take from yourself the dream, is to take from the whole of humanity itself. Contrary to the norms, any and all action that persists and fly in the face of you yourself, must be difficult. It is part of the unexplainable order of things for you, and the development of you, to be awkward. The unexplored territory is worth a new pair of shoes in the world of you. This is not selfish; as it is a sign that you have a meaning and a design. The many can say what they will; often the many have declined the inclination to explore that vastness of self. These are the toxic ones who would rather see failure than even one attempt made by another. They do this for selfish reasons in light of their darkness as darkness feed on darkness and light on light.

unsane!

Often we use excuses to mask our deepest fears of feeling inadequate. In so doing, we let our inadequacies shine for all to see. Our mental masterbation does not hide the feelings we have inside; the feelings of explosion we get only make us go there more often as the grey creeps up slowly from behind. The results are a longer life filled with regret and unsatisfaction no matter how many lights we see and types of music we hear. Those things entertain us as we delay the nightly rubbing rituals. Feelings of inadequacy are prevalent because we have come to rely on falsities in media. Nothing is real anymore yet we compare ourselves to this un-realness that can only be significant in a life far removed from sanity.

no shame baby!

There is no shame in failure. Failure is but one step in all aspects of the learning experience. To try and avoid failure for failures sake is not placing enough emphasis on the task at hand. It is heartbreaking when failure comes, even after great effort has been perpetuated in every way. But it is important to remember that we as people do not have all the answers and sometimes we need to learn how to move better within the confines of our social structure; both at large and within our own groups. Failure is sometimes a necessary precurser to even greater success in the long run. Shame comes to those of us who fail and do so as a result of our own thought processes and actions in response to those thought processes.

functionality

Deep inside the human well of stratification through institutional procedures and practices, there exists a hopelessness that divides one people from another people. Those who desire the dream and come from a table game where the cards are stacked against them have to encounter those who were born dealers; their bosses, their bosses bosses, and the institution itself. Moving up from player status to dealer status is next to impossible. Yet there are many who were born with a collared white shirt that criticize those wearing various other colored shirts. They make statements about things of which they have no understanding and in truth, could give a shit. We all want the dream and most of us are willing to work for that dream. However, there exists in this country a modified sort of life.
In some communities, opportunities are limited while in other communities, opportunities are fluid. Those people born into one or the other have at their disposal either a limited version of America or an America filled with the boundless. This inequality can be atributed to a social structure designed for the benefit of the few who have access to institutional structures that serve as steping stones toward the goal of becoming educated, building equity, buying a home, and saving money for their kids to go to college. This of course happens until mom cheats on dad, dad cheats on mom, divorce, court battles, attorney fees, hate, anger, kids run amuck, Vegas, alcoholism, drug addiction, and so on and so forth. Those who do not reach these heights of existence never had the opportunity to save money in the first place because of their skin color, place of residence, religion, handicap, low social status and so forth. This stratification has been in place since the funky wool wearing founding father's formulated the Constitution. All men are created equal only if those men have cash and are white. Washington made booze and smoked weed; Jefferson had slaves he had sex with; and Franklin dabbled in Satanism. America is a wonderful country if you have cash. If not, and you come from the lower spectrum of society, the road to riches is a long one due in large part to the way our social institutions function.

stands beneath

To be critical of a man's work; to be consciously aware of self-perceived discrepancies, and then to voice them or place them in print form, is to be out of shape, out of touch, and out of sorts with the life process as a whole. If this type is done for money, and contained within a self rightousness void of the new, it is done so free from gifts not perceived, but given to those who see something good and right in this awkward place. It could be the form they choose is one of transformation reflective of the everyday. In this type, there can be no comparison for criticism. This is indeed progression that truely has limits only to the imagination through which all good things come; and some bad things too I suppose. Even in response to the bad things, those who critize do so out stagnation and reporting. There can be no creativity in that place.