time structure

We want to graze in the green pastures and ponder the meaning of life. In so doing, we can set ourselves up for a plethora of issues ranging from the real and distinctly uncomfortable to the unreal; which can be the most unusual and horrific experience we could have. The in between stuff is just window dressing for the viewing pleasure of other people.
Actors we all are, falling away from ourselves deep inside the meandering flux of social life with all its discrepancies and falsities. We lose ourselves in our roles; if we are active. If we are not active we have shut down the process so our age can come quicker. Then we can buy the crap they say we need. This cycle is hard on us. It makes good and decent people feel insignificant inside. If only people knew that there are many who feel the same way once those hard layers of socialness get peeled away; with those deep and dark feelings that form the base of our huge towers of structured time being the last to go.
We should graze in the green pastures. We should ponder the big questions. If for nothing else than to take time away from our daily constraints and binding thoughts of reciprocation. We should never deny the way our feelings present themselves. There is value after all in how dreams and perceptions formulate.

movement

I once allowed myself to be taken in by the desirous ones who believed more in their way than any other. I recently heard a conversation between a group of 7 women who were talking about ways of keeping an eye on their men; and they were laughing about it. They viewed their men as pieces of property who are employable and trainable. I looked and listen to this shit and confirmed my suspicions about the real reason behind landing a fish. It was to train him, own him, and make him jump through flaming hoops so that he may one day see the errors in his ways and take heed to the noticable improvements in himself since he met the one who was talking at that particular stretch in time; while the other 6 ladies were doing the same fucking thing. Finally, after about 30 seconds of listening to all these lies and posturing bullshit, I had to inject some semen into the conversation. 2 nobody's surprize, they gave me only a single glance as if I were nothing more than a man who needed fixing. I am a firm believer that women want to fix that which is broken, but the long-term ways will never suffice and that which is perceived to be broken may in actuality be fully functional within the context of reason. I saw no real reasoning in these 7 women, I saw anxiousness mixed with fear. I saw pain mixed in with those subtle smiles. I saw frustration peeping through the cracks in their communication; not by their constant chitter-chatter, but through their movements and eyes.

they think maybe

My time there was distinctive. There was a feeling there that opened passage-ways, ways that allowed views of the wandering ones who remain exiled for their spiritedness. They were like children playing crude games. Because it was all inside, nobody could understand. I could not talk about it. I could not bring anything up in regular conversations with trusted friends. It had to remain mine. What occured on that property will never leave me. The things I saw were terrifying yet somehow I feel better knowing that my experiences in that place, at that place, among those exiled souls, allowed me to see clear distinctions between those who are believers in something and those who just think they are.

experience experience

The ancients believed in the stars and saw things in them that still exist today. The connections they made with the universe around them were incredible. Think for a moment what it must have been like to witness the explosiveness of it all. In those days there had to be a much clearer view of the universe. The ancients were also pretty tuned in to the idea of radio frequencies as well. They often built fires and danced stirring electric clouds of passion in its excited state. They actually opened portals that allowed them to view certain future events. Science has dismissed these claims for the most part-as science tends to do. But the fact is one must be open to experience experience in order to have experiences that are memorable enough to laugh about later.LLC 98.2

BALLS!

I used to sit alone in my room and have the most magnificent dreams come rolling through my head. Each dream would have at its core my backyard. In those days I had a backyard that was like a baseball stadium. Everyday in the summertime was like the World Series. I had, and still do, every plastic baseball helmet of every team of that era. I used aluminum bats and tennis balls. I swear I had them tennis balls all over across the alley and in the neighbors yards with their bad dogs and all. I used to have to dodge them dogs to get at least some of them balls back. Over time I learned how to put the ball in different places. I learned how to hit it on the ground to the hole in the right side. I learned to bang it in short right with a hell of a curve on it. I learned how to line it up the middle and stretch it into a double because the kid would always assume I just wanted one. This mentality stopped for me in high school; actually before high school. You see, that is when women ruined my life forever. I realized long ago that Robert Plant may have been right all along. Son of a Bitch man!

universal road

The world is a broken down wreck of a car sitting alone at the side of the universal road. It is plundered, used up, and foul smelling from the infantile remnants of a race gone bad with pitches, ploys, and meandering solicitations of small minded people out for a buck. There is a way out of this mess. There is a way to avoid the escalating violence of the mind created by the solitary few who truely believe they have a genius mentality about them when they are nothing more than creepy charlatans who take advantage of those who have given up the tidiness of research for the immediacy of self gratification. The reason information creates havoc is because there is too much of it. Over time the whole idea of knowing becomes secondary, forgettable. What remains is a one sided story that needs something to feed on. This feeding can be found in the very next program and so on and so on. Soon, and in time, reality takes on a whole new shape where the real self rarely makes an appearance on the big stage. That one true you/us becomes hidden and tucked away just like the world is now in the universe.

running ready

It is simple! You wake in the morning, you shower and shave; you don't need to pack, think or prepare because you did all that last night before bed, and you stretch it out man. Then, all you need is a soda or 3 and some smokes and you are off and running ready for the days activities. Any deviation from that format leads to the destruction of the day before it starts. If the phone rings, and it is your mother who is crying and in need of a sympathetic ear; what thoughts run through your mind? That's interesting. Wanna hear mine? OK, I visualize myself standing on a tall building and jumping off of it. It is very simple and clean. There is nothing dramatic about it. If the phone rings again and it is someone else who is in the mood to drag me down into the tall and muddy brush that is infested with mosquitos and tics, what would you do? That's is interesting as well. I actually like the idea of throwing myself in front of a Budweiser truck. Why is it that people use the phone to communicate fully the negative. I need that shit like I need a new pair of ski's. One should briefly touch over the negative unless of course it is indeed an emergency requiring immediate assistance or the little purple people will come and cook you breakfast in the middle of the street. So, the answer to the phone issue can be solved. After much deliberation I have decided to throw the fucking thing away. If someone wants to talk to me bad enough they can write a letter. Simplicity means never having to be dragged over rocks and cactus while having gasoline poored on the newly opened wounds.