real life

There are many who do not trust banks. For that reason they prefer cash. My grandfather was this way as I am sure many from his generation were. My father tried to be that way until mom found his hidden shoe box in the closet. All that bithin and moanin for years about money this and money that and the whole time he was hoarding money as if he were shelling payoffs to crooked members of the city council or hotel rooms to meet women for anonymous sex; paper trails are unacceptable. These are things they do not teach in school and this is reality. If you do not like it, pray more!

that sadness, that negativity.

Remember when you were a kid and you viewed the world as a complete waist of time filled with older people who were bitter and stupid? Remember when you looked at your entire community and saw tarnished innocence corrupted not by themselves but by the order of things; the heirarchy of political power within the larger frame? Imagine for one moment yourself "growing up" to that place, accepting that place; the very same place you once loathed but now make excuses for as you climb the heirarchal ranks of social order and credit. Are you in it? Do you like your grown up spot? How does it feel really to have abandoned your dreams while making excuses to the number one most important thing in your life, YOU! Never shit on people who have not abandoned their dreams like you have, if you have. The past is gone and there are no excuses for that sadness, that negativity. 98.2

lifeness

In my time of discontent I see sadness in the human rhelm beyond the dress, beyond the duress, past the smiles, cries, tears and fears. I see a mechanical spiritedness merged with a flooding of standards inequitable for the most part by those who live by the lie. This merging of emptiness with the remnants of past lies and torturous sublime order makes us all empty so we may sustain the lie they weave and we perceive.
We dress for duress and our training requires that. The cries with lies on the inside and out wait for our oldness and pain to appear as it did with all those before so us, like them, can reflect on all our missed opportunities while the devil laughs directly at us. But hey, we don't believe in anything anyway and that is representative of our mechanistic ways and sound measures of contriolled discontent. 98.2

lost in the temporary.

An emotional investment is the least favorable way to enter and proceed with any relationship these days because of the unbelievable availability of options that come in multiple forms all dressed with multi-colored sprinkles made to order symbolically reserving the right to be in a tremendous state of stagnation and missed opportunity while rolling down the unending avenue of predictable stormy weather. 98.2

dumbass

One of the most endearing qualities we humans possess is our inate ability to actually believe our own bullshit. We can talk our way through just about any crisis of self and make it good again somehow by falling directly back into the bucket of molasses so we can struggle only to do it all again. This cyclical behavior is what makes us all fucking stupid. 98.2

A man stands in line at Wendy's. While observing the menu he notices a young woman dropping change in front of him. There was a little girl standing next to her and she was holding the woman's hand. As the young woman bent down to pick up the nickels and dimes he also bent down. From his mouth sincerely came,"every dime counts." The little girl looked at the man as the woman stood up digging in her purse as if looking for her coin purse or something. The little girl was not smiling and not old enough to run a sympathy scam on him. I swear it was like a play as I sat at a nearby table watching this older gentleman looking this girl in the eye for what seemed like a full minute while I anxiously waited for the next move which was likely to occur in this very second, this one moment in time. What did the man do? He walked right past the girl and the woman and as he did he put a piece of paper in the little girls hand.
I wonder what was on that piece of paper. I thought it was money at first but since I heard no laughter and saw no smile, I have to think it was still at least something. I watched them get their food and they walked out the door. The little girl dropped that piece of paper on her way to the car and it fell to the blacktop. I just had to know what that paper said, if anything. I walked out and just as I got there a wind came and blew the paper up into my hand. It was truely an incredible thing. It was a corner of some glossy magazine and on it was this: Everytime you give up a nickel, it comes back to you dressed like a dime; but sometimes that dime does not come in the form of a dime. It may come in the form of a smile from someone you don't even know or a cool breeze on a particularly warm day. No matter what it is always a good idea to pack some loose change with ya whenever you go. Not for the dimes, but for the times when you need words to make rhymes and you cannot afford Wendy's. 98.2

none, yet

Alone in my box sheltered from the fear I have solice for a spell and a breath of fresh air to clear my box making room for yet another piece of history. Here, in this place, I have the will to be clear. I have the desire to be where I want to be and there are no disappointments. I have full reign of my fiction free from indecision and judgement. I have no need or desire to act in any specific way to cater to anybody's needs but the one's I require-which are very little.
Alone in my box I have the control I seek and the desire I require and the shelter I need to never make a difference in a world full of sadness and wanting, liars and false desires sold for the sake of selling off pieces of manufactured child labor. 98.2