I felt lonely today. I did not want to be alone. I went to sleep and I woke up alone again; alone again. I walked today along the riverwalk. I came home and saw children playing with their families and they were laughing and carrying on. I changed the channel and saw the same thing. I felt alone today, but I was not alone. There are many like me, I suspect, who play roles each day with not a real word to say to anyone. Play acting, that's all it is. Everything is just play acting. I was alone today, but my lonliness is shared by many. I know this is true without evidence.
I want to be my essential self again. I am tired of acting. It just takes far too much away from me these days. Why have I been this way as far back as I can remember?
I felt lonely today and I suspect my day tomorrow will be constructed in much the same way. I am alone always, even when I am with another. I am used to it. Are you? Must we be this way; together, alone?

our generation

Many words will be written in the following weeks, months and years about what is to occur in the near future. History has shown one invariable consistency in that certain historical events do tend to repeat themselves. There are many parallels that can be drawn from our world today and the world of yesterday and beyond. Without mentioning any names or events specifically, suffice it to say that the impact of a single event in the future will no doubt once again prove that history does indeed repeat itself. The aftermath will be shocking and devastating in ways unseen before and there will be an exposure that will be the face of evil. The kind face with even words will bring forth a systemmatic reference to greatness in the eyes of the world. This will be the beginning of a new era, a new time, a new process that will surely bring the past up in daily conversations for an entire generation and nation. Dig it, there is no choice anymore. LLc 98.2

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