whispering wishes

Imagine if you will the perfect day. Imagine waking up bright eyed and bushy tailed as you leap out of the shower into your favorite and most comfortable outfit. You pop the shades on and out the door you go. You have a pocket full of cash, a full tank, and the entire day to do what you wish. I wonder what your wish would be.
I would have the cracks of solid iron shots echoing in the trees as the birds make their usual sounds and gestures. I would have good friends with me all playing competitively. Afterwards there would be good meat and chicken on the grill and pool balls banging in the background blending with the rockin jams being played in full surround sound. There would be laughter for all with movies playing softly till dawn.
There would be a hearty homemade breakfast waiting for anyone who stayed in the whole time: Pancakes, bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, waffles, sausage, donuts, apples, oranges, bananas and grapefruits; every juice known to man and yes, an entire case of diet pepsi- of course.

time bandits

There are feelings and thoughts that refresh the mind and occupy the temporary vacancies that sometimes persist in our daily grind. These feelings are real because they occupy the mind's time that is not always gracious in its reception. The conflict that becomes of it resides in another one that lies on the other side.
The line that gets crossed is old and worn from generations of heavy travelers. The stories and hopes and dreams handed down from past inequities swallow up our new ideas and hold them in to suffer in silent squeezing. The line must be moved and the doors must be opened in order for these new feelings and thoughts to emerge.
Those doors open because others have closed. The walk through will always be long and the time it takes to arrive in style will most definitely vary from mile to mile. But in the end it will be said that you fit fine in your garb and stained it well with a passion anyone could tell.
Our feelings are not measured by their quantity; I have an immeasurable amount; they are measured by quality alone because true feelings will never be fully understood, only pondered and written about. And that is the fun of it all! 98.2 LLc

human condition

How do we quantitatively measure the human endeavor? If it required measurement to include numbers, then why is it that on page one of the research manual clearly states that all experiments including human beings contain flaws that are measurable. The good news is that included in this measurement process is that part of the experiment which deals specifically with the relationship between the unknown, its causes, and its reactionary effects. Beyond that, the clear observable and provable proof of im perfection within the human condition, and all endeavors either alone or in contact with one or more other human beings, is our quantitatively measurable cluelessness that seems to gain strength as we age. Those who earn degrees have supported this idea as they are now socially recognized as clueless and ready for work; hopefully in an important capacity.

satisfaction

Satisfaction, this is the big question isn't it? Our desire to be satisfied is human first followed by our secondary and useless endeavors to derive supersonic pleasure from things made of cloth, plastic or glass. Satisfaction never comes from the gathering of materials. This only promotes the social self which is a total fabrication. We need not belong to any company but the company we find intriguing. Being with people who naturally feed our spirit of self, the one that is hidden away somewhere in the catacombs of our mind's, is of the utmost importance. From there growth is measurable and worthy of contemplation and reflection. Getting to the point where time has run out for those who drain the spirit can sometimes be arduous and time consuming. Looking for the right avenue to pursue is sticky at best. But the whole idea is to encompass a whole life experience without the burdens of those who care not for such things. After all, it is happiness and satisfaction we seek in this often crowded place. Satisfaction always comes on thick at first. The key is to learn how to thin that dressing out a bit before you soak the lettuce pieces. We all know it is good thick, but once it warms up, it thins out naturally. Interesting in comparison. LLc 98.2

listening

This is master's level now and as much as we would like to think that we can write in certain ways, live in certain ways, and operate on a daily basis in certain ways; and expect the same results as those who did the same sort of things years ago to obtain their goals, we cannot. This is a kind of Dillingham Flaw; a name coined by a social scientist years ago which defines the comparison from one time and place to another as a useless endeavor.
Things can never be the way they were. This idea is imaginable but never possible. The thing is we get older and become less and less needed. We get shoved out and moved aside. This is a normal process that is sometimes difficult for people to understand or accept.
Our time is short here and we need to make it memorable. That means we must make mistakes; we must laugh; we must cry, and we must by all means have the common decency to at least listen to opposing views that challenge and engage our belief systems. This is master's level now and the boys on the block are looking at you.

the special one's, the other's

The special ones have a look about them where you question yourself inside before you speak with them. Sometimes it is best not to speak with them. Sometimes it is best to keep a distance far enough away to find no more concern with them. No matter where these travelers go there is protection from many different personality types occupying a wide array of community positions. This is accomplished by a straight forward attitude about the tasks at hand and finding ways to recommit to the tasks in a way that is not reflective of a new way, but an example of the old way. Back in the day people had people. Like minded individuals earned a living, worshiped the same God, and perpetuated a way of life that was exclusionary and unAmerican. Let us be careful of the wayward ways of the unknown. It is the unknown that scares us most and it is the unknown that we rely on to influence others even though nobody knows anything for sure. The special ones occupy the space that was layed out for them by forces that are stronger than the will of many many people.
The others, the antithesis to those who are special, are interested in bringing down the motivated by condemning that which they themselves do not understand. They survive well by comparison, for comparison, in the name of something far more elegant and deceitful. They are the roadblocks of misery that have given up on their fight. They have abandoned the self for the more presentable other self. The result is darkness the void that needs to feed constantly. From their perspective, what they do makes sense. They are the result of many years and many people perpetrating the funk for their own self, the one that cannot cope in any other way but to dull the shine of other people.

my little playhouse

My little playhouse contains the moods I possess. It is a fun place to visit on the right days, on others, not so many ways. The moods go from pole to pole with nothing in the middle but fragmented justifications for my actions. My little playhouse is both colorful and dark but it creeks in all the right places. I can spot the turmoil before it happens and choose therefor to create my own at the expense of nobody but me.
My little playhouse is on the same street as yours. We are neighbors but we have never met. We see each other in passing and even wave occasionally at one another. But that is all we share. That is what we know. Where the streets were once filled with the laughter and cries of children at play, now we have streets lined with little playhouse's filled to the brim with the moods of people and children at their rightful post; looking at the screen with all encompassing involvement. My little playhouse is brown. What color is yours?