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?

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.