I am social structure, you are a segment of that structure. The bones that are contained within me are made up of ideals that were formulated a long time ago among farmers who thought it prudent to not include an unwilling population of men, women and children, in the idea that all men are created equal. From there was born a style, an elegance of form that was to symbolize ones standing in the community; the white male dominated herarchy of social me and the standards I promote. You will have access to things others will not. You will have a road more readily ran on because you will have on a really cool pair of Nike's that feel like warm chowder on a cold and crispy day flowing down your heavily medicated throat because you live in a cold part of the country where a warm day is 48 degrees; and you are always feeling less than snappy due to your inflamed sinal cavity. You will go to school because I hold the keys to the doors, and I believe in you. You know somethin there large guy? What? The funny thing is....What? I am not real. I am completely made up. I live among the stars in the sky; and in the air you breathe and broadcast over and through. You will go far in life because I believe in you. I am social structure, and you give me life! 98.2 LLc

bite me you sissies!

Academic writing is for sissies who have a natural resistance to experience. They are fence sitters and gatekeepers to an unholy land that is fully enveloped in the black and white cloudiness of bullshit; irritating the masses; influencing the young, while making Joe the Plumber feel inferior. If a kid wants to stick his finger up his nose, then wipe the goobly goop on your new sofa, so be it. Why did he do that? Who gives a shit! How the Hell can anyone experience life when all they do is study it? The time they spend studying would better suit them if for once they decided to tie one on for a couple weeks and experience the wet noodle that is society; but from a more fun loving, alcoholic point of view. This is LLC and I am Audi 2387.

inside, the unseen

From the moment it, whatever it is, is broken down into its finite parts, and then analyzed for future instruction, it then becomes fractional. The pieces cannot function in respect to the larger whole because they all require each other in order to function. The process of analyzing the function of it then becomes obscure and the meaning lost in respect to what is being happened upon. No thing can function in and of itself. It can only function as a function to something, in something, or by something. If manuals are formed as to the benefit of the parts with respect to their function, then those words contained within that manual are useless; they serve no individual purpose in analyzation to the thing. If a part is broken, it is determined so through dysfunction in relation to the thing itself. Organizing thoughts and actions in pieces related to the pieces themselves serves only one purpose, to benefit the writer of the words. This of course does not pertain to mechanical devices such as engines or the body; their parts need to be analyzed and taken down. I am speaking of the unwritten language contained within and about the social being.
The man who relies on functionality through wit and cunning, and not through truth, real truth within the various pieces that make up the body; the unseen, must find himself smart and successful. He then manages his day by the glow of the deceiver who shines brightly in the eyes of the flacid, weak, and Earthly. These people cannot see what they do due to their wit and desire; for it leads and the body follows. It should be that the body cares not to follow, but to lead in the direction of the inside part, the unseen. To analyze something, a man would be better off to analyze that, which cannot be broken, is rarely written about, and hardly understood through the veil of the social life.

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.