true intent

dreamers make the entire world tollerable. It is the dreamer that inspires and spins the weave of contentment. Through the dreamer, the child-like cracked smiles and giggles, we manage our days that can sometimes be empty. Without someone to think about dreaming, without dreaming ourselves, we cannot possibly become a part of our own future enterprises in our truely intended way. At the end of the day it is the dream we look forward to and it is the dream we dream about. LLc 98.2

page 107

There is a book. It is shiny and red. There is no writing on the front or back. For the most part it is unattractive. It is for this reason I suppose nobody has bothered to crack it in quite sometime; the dust on the exterior is evident of that. Well I cracked it and read the last page, page 107. On this page was the result of years and years of deceitful practices nationwide from the banking industry to the government industry to the man on the street. The main character is named Crystal. On the bottom right hand corner of that final page is a photo. It is a photo of a television, a bag of chips, and chunks of velveeta cheese spread all over some strange bed with stripped covers and dark green fluffy pillows. There is a picture on the wall of a cat in a martini glass licking his balls. Needless to say, I started from page one and found the book to be charming and thoughtfully written. If I had to give it a title, which it does not have, it would be something like Belonging to the outside, forgetting about the inside. I do not know why! LLc 98.2

heck of a thing man!

Although the seventies were fun, within those daze occurred a most frightening theme. Television talk shows and news programs that embellish the horrific. Not to be out done by this new trashy reality that would serve as the jumping off point to our ultimate reliance on media in general, the psychiatric profession came through with a stunning victory as the battle for ultimate salvation would be fought in the yellow pages. Yes there came to be hundreds and thousands of fresh off the farm graduates who came out with one book after the other all claiming to have real solutions to your problems; the pharmaceutical industry beginning to take flight. With the tremendous amount of cocaine and cannabis that pervaded these shores, you can be sure that some of those books were written, like most quality rock songs or great pieces of literature, under some kind of outside influence. Now just look at the results. Look at what we have become: over medicated, repressed, apprehensive, depressed; fully reliant on false images all promising the same bullshit for the same low price of 19.95. The seventies gave birth to mania-so welcome to the new world order where pills are made before the illness and thousands of books are available to help you deal with your problems. It's a hell of a thing man, let me tell you. LLc 98.2

what?

I forgot once what it was like to be enthusiastic. I remembered again that feeling and came to understand the game. There are many games to be played each day and each day brings with it an entire new set of characters. There are no rehearsals here, but the main characters know precisely who they are and what they are doing to each other. That is the game of manipulation and concession. The context of these occurances always falls within the relm of finance and time occupation with things and people we would rather bypass altogether. This steals away enthusiasm and sucks dry the inside that will always cry for something more.
The essential characteristic of any human is to overcome and adapt. During this process we store away feelings and experiences that come back to haunt us like a tick tock in the middle of the night. We learn how to operate within certain structures and find ways to benefit from each encounter. This can only be done when there is enthusiasm. In time this enthusiasm can become part of the essential self, adapted and morphed to fit the secondary reactions to primary forces based solely on the game being played. Time is the number one rehearsal and learning tool that helps display the ways in which perceptions fall into place within any given context. None of this is necessary, but if you love the game and the people in it, it's all good! Or you can be complacent and sit down and think about it over a taco and a coke. LLc 98.2

create

Art can never be repeated or properly duplicated, not even by the artist; they do not know how. The feelings behind the art, whatever kind of art, are there for only a brief moment. They can only be coupled with the senses for so long until they vanish in the moonlight. Remembering the feeling is strenuous and always difficult. If it becomes forced or made to look a certain way, then it is no longer art. Once we formulate art around what is called for we forget the point of art itself. Because it can never be duplicated, art fills our need for new things. It feeds our innate desire to strive in our time to become significant in some way. We do this not for reward or recognition. Instead, we become involved in creation because there is nothing more human; nothing more fascinating, and nothing greater than the expression of one's passion. The rewards come from within. Then and only then can life truly begin. LLc 98.2

sold

It was a large house with a basement and an attic that was filled to the brim with artifacts. One day a piece of paper with five numbers on it was found being used as a bookmark. The book was old, red, and it seemed homemade. It was in good shape; hardly opened except for one page. Page 51 was about the decline of a great nation back in such and such ending with the demise of an entire way of life. This of course stemming, according to the previous 12 pages, from an evening where a conversation took place between 4 people over drinks in one of those hideaway restaurants in Manhattan back in the year 1962. The one who found this book has refused to tell his story--until now. That house was not just a house, it was a marker that served a specific purpose. Within its walls contained the plans for such and such to occur all the way up to .... No longer fascinated with the book, the one who found it put it in the nearest library. Unknown to this person, the book was placed in its proper place just as it was supposed to be.

The moon rises up in the sky and pulls our fragmented thoughts together in a collage that makes it difficult to make distinctions between one thing and the other. For example, today I lost my cell phone. Now I have always commented on how back in the day pay phones worked o.k. If we needed to make a call, we found a phone and dropped a dime. Life was good in those days. But today however, I had thoughts going through my head. Things like, " What if something happens?" or " What if I miss something and someone tries to find me and they worry that I do not answer; suspecting foul play and unusual circumstances?" So, I worried for hours about having to go down to the place and do the thing and pay for another fucking phone. Ironically, mother called and I heard the phone making that awful noise in the other room. The cell was found and I could rest myself. I checked my messages and nobody called. I really believe there is a direct correlation between the moon and common sense. Maybe the gravitational pull acts like an adhesive making everything rise and fall together. Maybe that circumstance is all inclusive. There is something about this place, this planet, that works us over in ways that we are not privy to.