THE INFINITY TAB

I was just day dreaming about a bar tab that I never have to pay. Sure some would ask the Genie in the bottle for powers, fame and fortune.  I prefer to drink my Genie out of house and home.

I'm not so grandiose in my wants and needs.

Ben Franklin said that beer is how we know God loves us. Well I want unconditional free pouring love.

I would tip of course. I'm not a pagan. I just like the idea of bellying up ordering some liquid gold and saying with confidence, bar keep, put it on the infinity tab.

I'm not going to live past infinity nor do I want to. However, while I'm here I would like a few perks. Nothing fancy. Just simplicity. Who doesn't? Who wouldn't? More importantly, who should?

Now I know there isn't a nirvana plateau. Just periodic moments of bliss. Moments of clarity in between the vices, distractions and suffering through what is clearly heaven. Just look up and around and see all are gifts if you so allow. For me? Beer is the great equalizer, the bridge between the moments, the living from one to the other and back again.

IF YOU HAVE NEVER

You haven't.

You can't know the lure of the precipice.

Until you have embraced beyond boundaries tabooed.

Touching the edge, standing, peering, resisting the push to leap.

We should all be leaping, always off a cliff of metaphysical concept.

If not, we have settled at the edge's bluff.

Searching for our beginning through time, for that which brought our stance on the edge of now and where now. Of how and why, of what now. Stand, stay or leap?
Love the fall, or depend on the familiar ground you hold so tightly.

Tell me no is to tell me to know, to leap, to prove it so, to deny no more.

Philosophy is theoretical, method is doing, it is transformation. To know a thing is to do a thing.

Forever changed, regardless of the the leap, the revelation of the fall, consequence of the impact.

Now you are changed, now you are renewed, now you are done until you leap again.

How many

 real chances do we get in a life?

Those significant moments of choice that lingers, haunt us until we are done
What  makes us or what destroys us as we live and  and expire? And after we are gone all that remains fades.

Will it all just be the usual strap on or a sneak attack?

Choose wisely or let time decide, because we all have been dying as long as we have been living. Some more or less respectively.

So it's said,"We are born alone we die alone". I am comforted in that thought. Alone does not mean without. It means individual. It means fearless. Forging a separate and equal journey passed the mass indoctrination and need for acceptance and validation.
It is our decision from beginning to end how we will live. How we choose to reach out, grasp clenching on to never letting go of creating love that will connect and infect throughout, beyond our Earthly span.

YOU KNOW WHO IT IS

You can't escape your nature.
No geographical, socioeconomical place, no venue or avenue of placement and turns or twists of fate will bring change into a new life. A weed sprouts relentlessly. Wildfire spreads, lightening destroys.

Evil plants a seed, evil grows, indifference plants nothing, weeds still grow. Plant wisely, beauty might grow in the  vulnerability amongst neighbors.

I've been told I'm a fucking hot mess.

My retort.

 Thank you.

I'd like to say it requires effort, but  I bloom relentlessly, naturally.

So are YOU tired of the seed you planted,
really so sure of the trail you placed, of the footsteps you have laid while navigating life, is it the path you thought? Looking around now, have you arrived only to go astray?
Ask, how many efforts mingled with misses brought you to now? Are you sure! Do you know?

As you are falling, who are you now? Where will you land? Will you be received?

Landing, touching solid is not so easy.

Direction and choice tried and learned, is turmoil  to be healed in intimate dark corners of fantastical imaginary strength with all messages mislaid.

When you are done, you are late.

The Alcohol Paradox.

I am drunk, my mind? Sober
Gin erases memories while creating more.
I'm only saying this because I am a man of deep feelings imbibed.

Lost love exist, it lingers in remorse, pain and pleasure. Torturous so, that it steps beyond our boundaries.

I want to tell you something. You might find it offensive, you might appreciate it. Or it could be left unsaid. You know for me that's not an  option.

And I know you, and I know you have never met a man like me, I know for me, you will always be a standard that others cannot achieve.

I have a solid history. It's connected with people that I embrace to my core. The continual construct of my being. I, you, will move on without, eventually fading into the distance of time, unknown, but remarkable to some.

It is the weight of what is and what was not.

A BRIEF DEFINING MOMENT IN THE TIME OF FATHER's DAY

I was listening to the live version of a song, In Your Eyes.

It opens this way:
"Accepting all I've done and said
I want to stand and stare again
'Til there's nothing left out,
It remains there in your eyes
Whatever comes and goes
I will hear your silent call
I will touch this tender wall
'Til I know I'm home again"
I take the idea “until there is nothing left unsaid”.
This has such significant meaning to me. To let it all go to put it out there. I don’t think I am alone in this thought; that we, for whatever reason, fear or something else, leave so much to our minds across the silent distance of our two bodies, assumptions, uncomfortable misunderstandings, confusion between us left unsaid.

Us, people; family, friends, lovers and the unrequited.
The words of Kate Bush run through my mind.
“Of all the things we should've said,
That we never said.
All the things we should've done,
Though we never did.
All the things that you needed from me.
All the things that you wanted for me.
All the things that I should've given,
But I didn't.”
Of the people I have lost, I am left holding so much unsaid.
I don’t want that anymore. I let it go, my reserve, my hesitation, my denial.
There is a children’s book of which I cannot recall the title, about a mouse named Pierre. Pierre was a fisherman who was in love with a dancer. She lived on a cliff high above Pierre and his boat on the sea. Everyday he floated by her home longing for her. Yet, afraid to say he loved her for in his mind she would not love a fisherman. She was an elegant beautiful creature.

One day Pierre could not contain his feelings. He was miserable, longing in his pain of the unsaid. He goes to the dancer and professes his undying love and before she could reply he ran away too afraid to be rejected. He goes home to be alone with his thoughts, his pain. And as he sits there he realizes he feels so much better. It wasn’t not being loved in return that hurt so badly, it was holding in his feelings, his thought, his need to express, to say out loud until nothing is left unsaid.
Maybe it is selfish of me, but I don’t want to bare the burden of not saying to you or anyone anymore what I didn’t say to others and cannot say to them now.
There is no word or phrase to express what significance you bring to me; and what meaning I hold for you in my heart.

In the silent space between our thoughts, the time that has passed, our perspective recollections, compassion and forgiveness exist in-between father and son. Whatever now holds between us, across that distance, in the space of misunderstandings, of lost time and opportunities, and the unspoken word, I want not to leave it unsaid that you have brought such meaning to my life and I am ever so grateful and humbled to have known you, to know you, to call you my father.

Nashville, The New Carpet Baggers

The history of your town of your life will pass you by.
Please try to understand. Don't get me wrong. I am from Nashville. 1962. I've lived here through our ridicule. I grew up in an appreciation of truly talented musicians. Now as I stand in an anomaly in a crowd at the War Memorial, I am not pleased as I would be at the Ryman. The band is quality, the crowd not so much. This crowd of Vanderbilt, Belmont privileged,  I resent the corporate attack on my birthright. I grew up in ridicule of Hee Haw only to see the explosive welcome and disregard of my southern heritage, of a small town gobbled up by condos by the influx of hipsters. So, as they move in I am moving out.

When you are on the last bit of your down slide, if you don't pour everything into it, you'll never feel the ecstasy of the crash. We all  need something to look back on as our lives flash before us. And I don't need this when there is the Cumberland Plateau, Ridge and Valley, Smokey Mountains/Appalachian Trail.

Lord of the decadent.
I'd rather take the unknown and make something happen amongst instilled fear and risk all that exists rather feel secure in the anchor of suffocation, waiting for the moment to arrive.

Free to the Associations

I was concerned you would miss me so I decided I wouldn't let you.
I know you are thinking,  'How can I miss you when you won't go away?" I can't advise as I am only the stalker. It takes two to tango. I won't call the police unless I have to tell them someone is holding a gun on me in their house.

I think on paper you look better than I do but in a Turkish prison I would rise above.
Well we all have our loses and misses in dementia.
That's me though.
I let my mind go where it wants without restriction. Some people are afraid to break through that barrier and let go, but they might like to be free to wanderthink
I'm always going to let my mind go there.
Open up the door to a large ballroom of free thought and dance the night away!

Happy New Year!

 Is the text.
I respond in 257 days. Slow down there soothsayer. I think, Why Happy New Year?  Each day, each minute, each second is a happy new year.

So those who think a happy new year is only on December the 31st at 12:59:50, you can take that indoctrination and that corporate hallmark  marketing mentality and chew, grind and genuflect it until the fat cow sings moo mother fucker moove over let retrospect come over. There are 365 days in most years. I don't like to make quick judgement. By hell or high water. By the blue bayou I I live and die day by day one thing, one minute at a time, inching away the the minutia of time that ekes out of the seams and pours from the breaks.
Ok. So now. This minute. I'm off into a new same world. I preferred the one with you. But that's not gonna happen or is it? Time is irrelevant.  So my choice if you asked, I'm in the now. If you need an immediate response I can only reply to happy right now! It's a choice.

A lesson learned from severe desire and methodology. And foundational people in my life. Guides.

And what better mark can a person leave on the earth than that to inspire others to love and be loved to be kind and caring and honest.

THE CARNAGE TRAIL

You. I like that you were the only person to tame me. Of course you released me back into the wild. I quickly  went feral.

That's a gift I believe. The ability to ease from one life to another.

Flexibility can sustain idealism.

On the other side idealism  can't foster in the mainstream lifers. That's the way it is with lofty social goals. Think of those select few who sees society as a whole and misses the microcosm thinking that we will all eventually come to one world philosophy of peace, love and tenderness.

It's OK to have those lofty goals, to aim for the sky. However,  I think we might  remember that we were not born with wings, that planes crash and we have been to the moon twice and there was nothing there.

So while we're spending our time spinning our wheels, the select few continue to attempt to drive humanity forward. The masses will build it and yet anchor it down. They destroy the intellectual spiritual direction through born atrocities and meager existence. But it's through limited cognitive ability, fear and starvation that the pyramids still stand.

Some like living in the fantasy of one day. We deny the practicality of reality. Honesty comes with a price in a world that prefers a lie I suppose.

Like man's greatest achievement, we go in circles.

So judge me for being a negative nay sayer. It's just an opinion. An observation.

Maybe there were slaves saying, "Can you get me on at the pyrimads. My girlfriend says goat tending is for losers."
Maybe it was like getting on with a automotive manufacturer in the 60's right out of high school. Of course we know how that is now.

Really, my hunch is that the masses through process is burdened down with the day to day struggle of surviving that they don't have the luxury to dream of utopia. or they are fed up with indoctrination, "Maybe I don't wanna get with it, your utopian bullshit. Get without it... get what I want, get what I need, yeah that's what I want."

So one dreams it for exstatentialism, the other builds it for food, clothing and shelter.

My concept, perversely it is the technology of instant communication, our greatest achievement to date that will date us.

Leave us scattered in the wake of this class separation, this chasm of thought we move forward and backward. One direction growing more massive than the other all the while tied together like the Earth and moon, never the twain shall meet or survive without the other, but eventually will go together back to the cosmos where it all began.

Only You Know or You Don't Know

The difference between comedy and tragedy is the timing. Sometimes horrific is funny and joyful is sad. It's the 90° angle that you witness when you were expecting something else.

Expectations get us every time.

It's really the individuals  perspective that we each define ourselves. A crafted reality. Perspective is the stuff that dreams or nightmares are made. It's whatever floats our boat or burdens our way.

It doesn't matter if you were born in a high rise in Manhattan  or in some slum by a crack whore that dumped you to the social service system, or whether mommy and daddy loved you or neglected you or daddy or mommy loved you way too much, you're not going to escape life without resentments .

And resentments are the foundation, the building blocks of our perspective.

And from our perspectives, come our choices.

Mostly these are unaware choices we make as we sit, walk or run to the finished line.

Our pleasure or acceptance of a circumstance details the outcome. Conscious choice rarely intervenes.

One man's decisions  is another man's guess in the dark.

It's all relative.

Whether you are eating Westminster saltines which are the best you have ever tasted or
eating processed saltines you made from the crumbles and remains at the bottom of the sleeve and those that fell from the sides of your mouth, it is arrogance or humility that defines the delicacy.

Let or don't let all those naysayers tell you that processed doesn't make you happy.
That's their trip. You can climb aboard or swim to shore.

Processed tastes as good as is the perspective of the palette.

I wanted to say, processed tastes as humble is the palette.

But that's my thing. Humility and gratefulness.

Me? I have an unfair advantage. I looked into the abyss and it lurched up. I'm still escaping.


So, who am I  to say what we eat is who we are? Or, what we do is who we are.

In my escape, I brought a view that makes me wonder about people who spend their life in excess pursuing money power and fame to accentuate their tastes, when others believe you don't even own your very soul. And there are those who don't even bother with anything other than what is given, stolen or grifted.

This time, this life eventually goes on without you and whether the soul goes on with or without you to end or to renew, presently, whatever you have left behind or lies in your future, there is nothing in comparison to your now.

We all exist somewhere in our own time zones living our reality.

Who is to know that a reckless  short life is much better than a feared long life, or an opulent self serving life is better than a of humble life of service?

Best Laid Plans Are Improvised

Best Laid Plans Are Improvised

Wordsworth said "The world is too much with us". And somebody said "The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray".

Planning is our way of preparing for the time when are too old to be preparing. We want to be able to rest while death is rapidly approaching. It's the age old story of the ant and the grasshopper.
 "The way I see it is one man's squandering is another man's adventure.
There two groups in this the world, preoccupied with preparing or too preoccupied to prepare.

Either way, the world is too much with us only because our self awareness is being bombarded by society's concept and belief of how we should live, behave,  rather than listening to our own internal dialogue, our innate DNA  given self.

And the only reason we listen is because we are connected by the need to be connected. Some are very good at filtering and standing alone others gravitate to like individuals and segregate  together, finding reinforcement in solidarity of their solitude.
I call that inbreeding or mass mutual self gratifying masturbation.  You pick.
It's really all about the need for validation. Needing to be told you are important, that you matter rather than finding self actualization. Not that anyone has, but it's the journey not the destination. Yes? No? Oh who agrees with me? Anybody? So that's how it's going to be?

Oh, by the way it was Robert Burns.  I guess he was on the idea of no matter what life, small with no conscience to man with his libido, life is life. You're born then you die.
And in between it is a series of choices.

I think the biggest choice is to fear or not fear. I was speaking with a friend about fear and she said that fear is a good thing because it protects us from danger. I agree except that is for when we were toddlers. It is a primitive reflex so our ancestors would not be eaten by the sabertooth tiger but, eventually our intelligence and learning from situations should give us the common sense not to go out at night when there is a killer tiger lurking about.
So, plan as you might we all know what the famous bumper sticker states, "shit happens".

For me, my past is a whirlwind at my back.

Maybe there is a third group, those preoccupied with living with passion, art and expression. Hippies. But they eventually succumb. Dead Head driving a Cadillac? Ring a bell?

Now, as the rest of us less passionate, get closer and closer to that time when we are too old to prepare, some begin taking toll of their lives and the choices they have made and the choices they are going to make narrow  down between two things, is it a need or want? As a species we are driven by a connection to others. Now you can argue, go back-and-forth between sex and love Which is which and is it a want or need?

I often in retort to others like to refer to the to the quote by the blues Brothers, " Everybody needs some body".

This constant drives our every important decision.

We desire connection, physical, emotional, mental or intellectual. This is a staple in humanity, to love and be loved . It is our own form of intimacy. in which we individually design  and seek from others. No one else can tell us if it is real or not . Our environment and our organic structure is intertwined in synchronicity or conflict. Real is relative to the individual.  Wether it exist if only for a moment or for a lifetime. Reality is really a view from an ever changing perspective. The flexible bend, the brittle break.

So choice is ours.

Even choosy choosers sometimes take what they can get that is close to their need or want as it has been designed.

Indiscriminate choosers take what is next on fate's menu.

With desperation or adventure comes risk. Welcome to planet earth.

In most cases we must all compromise or perish into desperation. But acceptance can suffice in our plans gone astray.

I'll leave you with this last quote from a man's deathbed who fought and was wounded on the beach of Iwo Jima. Saw his friends heads blown off their bodies ripped apart. " You won't regret what you did in life, only what you didn't do"

I've walked to nowhere many times and have always walked back

.

It's a self loathing thing. A rage against life. A way to know I am alive. Some jump from planes, others climb mountains and so forth. I delve into the darkness of society to test boundaries, to face death before my time. 

I gain empowerment when I walk the no white man's streets. Argue the price, pull out a wad of cash daring then to take it from me. 

They no better than to fight a man with a death wish. Fearless is feared. 

Block after block a target. My invisibility my posture leads my path safely home.

I gain strength to walk in the valley of death and know that to fear evil is to fear me. It's like flying. It is weightlessness. Freeing. 

But it doesn't hold. Last. Secure. To be validated as alive requirement involves repetition of the immediate embrace of death.

Never a simpler affair

Family Reunions You go with high hopes and leave hungover and grateful for the distance when you are home.  Sanctuary 

Abby

My sweet Abby.

You don't know me anymore than I know you.

I was there. I was with you. Bugs, frogs Madagascar hissing roaches.

Who you are now, there is a part of me.

I will never forget you.

I am not what they say.

You, me all are subject to others. Memories are real and some are only relayed to us to sift through.

Reach out I will grab your hand.

Your life gave me life. 

I hold tight.

Follow the second star on the right, straight on til morning.

Uncle Cary

The grace of life

You do not always have to be strong but only  to feel and cry and time will come that you  will be okay

For this is life. People and things come and go and we are changed by the passings and grow strength through the experience of pain. 

Follow the blood trail

Trustworthy of a person is based on their nature foul mouthed or not.

This is supposed to be based on a study.the conclusion being that the more verbal vulgarities the more trustworthy the person.  Ever hung out at a lawyers bar?

I like the story of the frog and the scorpion the scorpion asks the frog to take him across the river and the frog says I can't because you will sting me and the scorpion says I won't sting you because we both will drown so the frog says OK but halfway across the river the scorpion stings the frog and the frog says to the scorpion you stung me now we're going to both drown and the scorpion says nonchalantly it's in my nature.

You are too pretty to be thinking right now. So stop or keep it up.  I follow my nature. Beetle or human. We are organisms. Curse or gift of the evolved brain. I ignore society's manufactured consent. 

Approach first with kindness.

 After?

 Above ALL else. Be true to yourself. And swing away. 

They serve food and drinks

They serve frivolity. Friendship. Conversation. Togetherness And a bill.

I'm am biding my time

There are perfect moments
in life. When you are in a moment of bliss. Contentment and joy. Elated. Like a happy ending in a movie after the characters have struggled through hardship and dilemma. I always wonder as the credits role, "what now?"  Because you and I know that after the credits comes the fall. The roller coaster of living. Up and down. Thrills and spills. We are never finished. Not here nor after here. 

It's beautiful the dichotomy of our lives. The Yin and Yang. Just when we reach the pentacle we reset to start again. But I know and hope you know this is only a reality of this physical world. Life can be be an avoidance of accumulation, and instead a  practice of patience, love and focus. Fine tuning our belief that all there is to life here is to love and be loved. All else is our will fighting to stay against what is beyond.

What seems important here
Is only in our choice, fear fuels the fire.  Yet we do not have to submit.

Let go of the preconceived. Let go of the ought to, the you should, the how it is supposed to be.

All this goes on without you, all this is a dream, all this is a measure of what we can be beyond what what we know here.