The Pain Frame

It is knowing without having the courage to change. It is believing without believing at all. These are the ad-men. The idea, the true belief, that we are capable of anything else is carried by those who have not the time to write as they are busy running and setting new stages to perform on. The performances they maintain are beyond habit; almost as if they truly believe they are what we perceive. Their alliance with our underside is the draw. Some if not most of the audience knows they feel these things, these impulses, these desires, but they can never find the right stage on which to express them; with an attentive audience that is completely enthralled by the performances they give. All other people believe in the pain frame.
The pain frame has many designs and patterns. It can be bought and sold in all places everywhere. It can be traded openly and without hesitation or fear of prosecution, and it can be as freeing as the feeling through sound one gets as raindrops fall crisply on the side of the house and on the hood of the car parked just outside the window your looking through. It comes fully equipped with tested and secure ways of becoming something other than what you are and maintaining that performance for a lifetime.
Our appearance, well, we hide through words and clothes and cars and these all work really well in dark bars where the wolves run late in the evening; well in to the morning hours then driving away in their dark cars, wearing their dark clothes. These are the designers in time. They are the ad-men. Suspension of disbelief. Witchcraft, ain't it a hoot? LLc 98.2

spirit monkey

Once the discovery was made way back in the day, forever tarnished would be our way. The mode of money, and all she brings, would forever create divisions among the good and divisions among the bad; holding the rest hostage like a bagged up rag, used, covered in false promises and stinking with sweat and blood. Ideas they flowed like wine on Tuesday as the monumental ways of transport became larger and more destructive. The people were looked over as poor poppers; in some cases they were. Needless to say in our content today we have seen the after effects of the original. Those people are gone now, but their ghosts roam the field and leak through the wires to still be heard in their spirited ways. LLc 98.2

acting abyss

The explanations we seek do not lie within the bounds of social experience and reality; for this is a playground where answers that are real and true; as true as can be at any one time, cannot be found without giving regard to all those who stand to profit in some way from the encounter. Profit can stifle progress in some ways. This is where we lose ourselves in the acting abyss.
No explanation is necessary in the social world because it is an effective non-reality that relies on discourse and division to function. Being actors, we tend to forget the difference between entertainment and reality. However, our bland social world needs media to keep us at least talking to one another via the Internet. We sure as hell can't do it in person anymore without our cell phones stroking us and making us feel all better inside. LLc 98.2

tell her element

I walked in the really big room, books all over. In the corner alone was this woman; sheepish, skinny, but in her element I could tell. What was it about this woman that made a big wooden stamp come out of the sky and hit me right square in the forehead with the words in big red letters, "FUCKED" clocking me and knocking me down. One look at this woman made my freakin world-view change. I was afraid of her right away. What am I supposed to say to the woman who has just given me one huge fucking headache and a stamp to boot. I mean, I had no chance, none at all. When I found out who she was, well, that was it Jack. The whole Kitten Kaboodle began rolling down the mountains side toward the 47 Ford at the bottom. Moving on, I saw a woman today that showed me the way. LLc 98.2

ride's attainments

It is not unbelievable what a man will do to protect his standing; even as his helicopter is landing he is thinking of ways to continue his philandering. Inside the mind of the driven lives not the end; or matters of attainment for attainments sake, but the ways and means of achieving that goal and getting a narcotic-like rush from the experience as a result. He may not be aware of his intoxication, but that does not take away from the fact that he is intoxicated.
We see it everyday in the eyes of those we place so high on the social ladder. Look in the eyes of the driven and you will see a different expression pressing them on the inside. They may not be able to understand their drive, but that will never stop them from driving. LLc 98.2

< than you

Misconception and deception go together like leaves to a gutter. The rampage of these two things are storming the hillsides and coming down on us. But this is a different battle, one in which incorporates the supernatural truth that is firing on all cylinders. There is no containment to the spell as those who see it can never become anything but spots on the sidewalk to be scrubbed and swept. Becoming whole again may never happen as the social pull is a strong one to behave and act accordingly to one's less than disposition and human capacities. LLc 98.2

someday maybe someday

The filling of our society is not the sweet center like we have in some cookie; it is a filling of broken sheds and rusted tools that had their time and performed their duties. Holding on to the past is OK for a spell, but there comes a time when the past must not be used as a mechanism for future discourse. This is a human thing however and we all share its qualities and imperfections; the past I mean. But remembering it and bringing it up either yourself or hearing it from someone else are two separate things. On the one hand, there are good memories to consider. On the other hand there is everything in between the poles.
Through the hard social world we drive in and create and maintain, we forget that we can sometimes lose ourselves; who we truly are. Sometimes we search for the sweet filling only where shit burgers are sold and served on old benches surrounded by saw horses with dust on the hard wood floor. The past repeats itself as our humanity it seems will have it no other way. Oh well, maybe someday. LLc 98.2