bull-dog butt check

I often think about those people who live their lives in service to others. I see their point of view well as the alternative is to live solely for oneself. This selfishness is not of god and therefore any deviation from a service oriented way of life is unthinkable. This choice is not without its pitfalls however as there are high levels of addiction on both sides of the fence.
To live in some comfort at least, one must earn enough money to feed the bulldog, or habit, or something or other. A service oriented job will go nowhere without the necessary investment in time, education, and good old American money. A service oriented job will not pay for the bulldogs annual ass check; in order to move up in a service oriented job that can pay for extras like bulldog butt-checks, one needs to have at least a Phd in bullshit or know somebody or both. Otherwise, it is only through education that one can be of service to other people. Then, some years from today, those who lived a life of service can reflect back on all the shit they missed while being paid pickity poop.
What kind of social world places a minimum on people oriented positions, especially those who take care of the aged and/or physically or mentally challenged?
One reason for low wages and routinized care is the corporate world where free golf comes before anything else. Let's face it, if your a corporate executive, do you really care about anything else other than your own pocketbook? The rest is just paper and directives. Meanwhile, real people struggle to take care of their bulldogs.

functional dysfunction

And it was in this light I remember her. She was a stranger in some pub I have never been in before. She was dark haired, as far as I could tell, and she was short. She tasted like ice cream, her lips I mean, and her tongue was like a pissed off snake. Who ever taught her how to kiss was incorrect. It was like being attacked by a fireplug with the line blasting water all over my face. Was she enthusiastic, yes. And it was in that light I remember her.

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