the lives inside

I used to think that living inside my head was a bad thing until I found out around 8 that I was not the only boy, or human for that matter, peddling the big wheel uphill to an empty pond filled with Toad poop and flies. There is no question that in the end we are realized only in the thoughts of other people. Are we aware of this as our shell rots in the ground and our spirited self is renewed somewhere beyond all our contemporary comprehensions?
These conversations inside for most of us was realized, at least in my generation, with the movie Animal House when the devil and the angel popped up on either side of the kids face in a really nice representation of inner conflict and decision making; even though the situation in the piece was sexually and morally based making some uncomfortable at which point they should activate their right to change the channel or set the thought free comfortably from their limited minds, humor wise.
Living inside our head is where we spend most of our time. If too much conflict on the inside, then look bad on the outside manifested through eating, not eating enough, drugs (legal or other wise), booze, smoking, you name one). Inside is where some of us hear how fucked up we are on an everyday basis; how we would be better off in a bar someplace drinking the entire day away; smoking and socializing with fun and interesting people. Living inside our head may sometimes be a bad thing when too many thoughts occupy that space as if they were articles of clothing being spun inside one of those stainless steel dryers between 5 and seven PM. LLc 98.2

man or no

To become a man one must accomplish, through the rhetorical or not, something totally different while being accepted in the day's color and brightness. As we are bread to believe we need to feed on the acceptance of other's. The often forgotten about tools we came with become useless yet we bag them and carry them around with us as if we were going to some day use them. Time will show that tools are no damn good unless they are employed by our passionate selves. It is through our own mechanisms we find our way, not their way. This is the definition of being a man. LLc 98.2

so far, right now

We have been bought and sold and there is nothing we can do about it. Freedom is less than it was before; not much, and we have become pieces to the big economic jigsaw puzzle. It is not possible to imagine just how many of us get screwed each and every day just by living and breathing. The things we are told we need, the things that are offered as remedies, all make us simple and imagination free. This breakdown of individuality is a result of years of input by those who care about nothing other than their pocketbooks. The system itself workd against itself and for it because no matter what happens to any one person or group of people, there will be money made by someone. Once money comes before people by people interested in money only, then what we have is far from a democracy, very fucking far from a democracy. LLc 98.2

the long day

We are offered sweet silence in the day; the beginning of the day before the phone rings keeping us up when we would rather be down. We are offered sweet silence in the day before anyone awakes. Here we have solice and individuality where we are not one with the necessary crowd but one with our necessary and true self. This is the only time in our day where we think clearly enough to not be marred by the influences of other people as a necessity for gains. Sweet silence in the day is a gift to be cherished even as a relatively young person in the long day. LLc 98.2

nice

Contact, solid contact requires a level strike. This is accomplished through the feeling of complete and relaxed release. The amount of tension one places on the grip will vary from shot to shot depending on the lie, but the one constant is solid contact through a smooth and flowing release. Once good contact has happened, all that is left is to let the momentum of the club head take you to your finish; however that finish be. LLc 98.2

not yet

I saw real fear and confusion in the eyes of a child about to die today. This was no movie here. I just happened to be walking back to the sliding glass door when I head commotion in the pool. I went over and saw my great nephew on his way down in the water. The commotion I was hearing was his little arms trying to keep him afloat. It sounded like Coco Boy had fallen in. This is exactly what we continually hear about on the news. Whenever it is quiet and you know good and damn well kids are around, there is a problem. It only takes a minute or two for anyone to have to make that dreaded phone call for the ambulance followed by the emergency room waiting to hear good news. I went through that when I was nine when my nephew Ryan died from drowning as his mother was in the house on the phone with one of her girlfriends. He was almost three just like Griffin is now and will continue to be. It was not his time to go yet, it was not his time to go yet, it was not his time yet. LLc 98.2

it the occassion

I recently had a conversation with a guy who seemed to have an interesting take on life, a really interesting one that, in the last dance, holds true for all occasions and all people in all times. It went something like this: a man, meaning man or woman, can have all the items necessary for a successful presentation and be unhappy as hell on the inside but energetic and task oriented on the outside with more than a hint of inspiration to top it all off; again, his meaning him or her. Now, a man can have nothing; no items to show and nowhere to go and be unhappy as hell or even more so than the man who is good to go on his stage, or so it may be.
So it seems that when one speaks of happiness, one must have it for themselves without any thought or deviation from their ultimate and natural goal while enjoying every step of the process along the way. It is important to know now that this is a man who has never really worked doing anything, has no kids, and has more friends than you can shake a stick at from all over the country. Anyway, happiness in his eyes can be as simple as a man living under a bridge or in some down and out shanty-town in the middle of the desert where he can drop dead without anyone ever knowing a thing about it the occasion or him. That man, he may have been, if it were and was the case I am sure somewhere sometime, may have been the happiest man in the world who died doing exactly what he wanted to be doing where he wanted to be doing it, whatever it may be and have been.
So, who is to judge who is happy truly or not? There are many people who prefer to be unhappy because that is their comfort zone; the place they are most familiar with how things look through their preferred lens; the one that gives them the jagged frame they believe they need to operate from in order to solve an issue that they created themselves through habit and familiarity over time. As an example, if these unhappy people were to somehow have a slate clean enough to eat off of with all the trimmings of ultimate freedom and expression and happiness and joy, they would soon surely fuck it all up with one or more of the many emotional people they employ. The point he was making was clear enough for me I thought and in a world of rush, rush, rush, where media is static and filled with buckets of shit stacked one on top of the other, his point was correct in a general way for all mankind in time. Social expectancy and rewards are simple showdowns between caged rabbits hungry to fuck with a thirst for more, more, more. LLc 98.2