Weather or whether.
You can be bought and paid for. It is whatever you choose to believe. You can rebel for hate sake or follow out of fear. Or you can make a conscious choice.

Expectation is unreasonable. It's the sticky wicket that binds us. It is free thought that teleases us.

Even in the weather report they try to to bring reason. She might have meant unseasonably but she said unreasonably warm. Warm in February seems reasonable to me. Shouldn't be unexplainably warm? Not traditionally warm? Pleasantly warm? Or just warm and aren't we lucky? Unreasonably seems to state that weather is usually reasonable. Reasonable. What in nature or the universe is as we think it should be? Reasonable is in the mind of the beholder, the mind of wishful thinking, the mind that wants one thing but gets what is.  "No reasonable person could have objected" who would object to warm weather in a traditionally cold month? An unreasonable person or just one who likes tradition or the expected. That's a tough way to live. I prefer the acceptance of the happening. I won't  say reality, that would be unreasonable to project my prospective against the whole of human earthly conscious.

My thought is that unreasonable is a justification of random outcome in the guise of educated prediction.

It's just one of many ways to twist and turn words to indoctrinate, to manufacture consent. That parents, school, church, media and corporations should think for you because they want you to believe you can't function without them that you shouldn't think for thyself.

That there is some control in chaos other than acceptance

"Ah, the nature of a net".

Even though I love my father,I still after all these years I am only a boy
attempting to save myself by rescuing my mother in whomever I find her.

This time I lost myself in the sadness and desperation of your pain and my hatred of your bully. I apologize. I have no right. It's your life not mine. I have one, but as I am on my way, I just get distracted then trapped as I often easily do.

No blame here, just bewildered and confused to pursue blindly forward until I realize again the pocket of my reality the confines of my truth.

In the end, It's all windmills of a personal war  when I fight battles that are not my own.

I should know better but blindly I pursue until exhausted I see that my time and effort would be better spent on myself.

I guess it's a way of attachment without commitment. Misdirection  for the sake of avoidance. In the end I am a vicious fighter that is a relentless coward.

That being said, of my on volition I know
I cannot struggle the lure of the net no more than it's design can stop me.
Time will just pull me on up, fillet me, cook me and devour me so I can begin again.

Other people's bitching gets in the way of my bitching

because someone always has it worse.

If you're not disfigured or dismembered in some way, have a terminal illness, cognitively delayed, live in a third world country where there is a constant state of war, genocide, genital mutilation or rape as a general practice, be grateful.

And if you are experiencing all of the above, then you can bitch.

Stop Whining

We should grow. You see your pain, your struggle backward.

It's part of a process.
Not easy.
Keep in mind it's better to pay the price for something you want than something you don't.

And you're not getting out of life without paying a price. t
That is the gift that God gave you, struggle. The growth is up to you.

I feel for you going through this. But I've done it and continue to do it fearlessly.

You have had me has your support your distraction and foundation. Now is your time to do the real hard part.  Fly.
Just like billions of others. You will do it or you won't.
Quit or find the strength and patience for the minute at a time that is required. If you can, you will be truly free.
You say, I wish I had never met you."
I ask, "Where would you be now? "
Too late. Wishing before or after the fact is fruitless. Now, you are forever changed as am I. That's what human interaction does for us.

People see and feel what they want to se and feel. Known suffering is no more difficult than suffering the unknown. It's just more familiar more comfortable more stagnant.

I enjoy an honest fight on my behalf

To what means do we do a thing? Either in or out.

For some the right thing comes naturally, others it's a struggle and the remaining its a selfish existence

It's a life each are given.
Funny I guess. But not. Ask the kid in the photographer's basement or the third world start in chaos, in famine, genocide and war. Wrought with these choices, or our nature versus society's indoctrination and the environment we traverse, it's a curse and a gift.
It's a a choice, a perspective to be measured in our time given on Earth.

CHAOS

Chaos

DONE

now I'm finally doing. It's about time. Time. Linear versus all encompassing. Now versus dreams, wishes and desperation.

Goddamn fucking hole. Dark rat gnawing me from the inside. Let me go.

Just let me please.

I've filled you endless times but you want more. Every time, I slip into your greasy sickness to awake stuffed, miserable and you still hungering, lingering lying in wait for  more of my weakness.

Calling at my pain, chewing at my emptiness.

Soon the Same old return and revisit will come.

Our hate is one. I want to destroy it, destroy you but it is the meal that slides down your gullet.

Shaking you shakes me, shaking you pleases.

The debate always ends the same just one more time and we are done. But we are not. Never.

You are my oldest friend born together. I met you in that dark fondling.  You crawled to me as I left my body in disbelief. My solace my pain you were there.

Only the sleep of mud or water's  depth will free us of my pain and your hunger.

I need to go back to the peace I knew before.
This anger will be my lesson. This pain will be my strength. I allowed it and grateful so I'll let you go.

It will be Done .

 It will be Done  

Misty

It took a long time for me to find you. And with still time left. And you too, stepping away from the pattern.I'm new to you but you are what I've always wanted.
You are taking a chance I'm betting on a sure thing.

People around us disappear in the peripheral of our singular focus.

Two words and you know what I'm thinking as we laugh hysterically

Sure. It's complicated but easily so.

For me, life is a practice. Always be moving. Stagnation is the enemy. Our endeavors are experiences no matter the outcome, it will bring us forever changed.
Only one thing to know, love and be loved.

Life can be dark. Can be beautiful.

We are all animals.
Ever been in a quandary ?
On the verge of destruction or salvation? Not knowing which will save you?
Struggle, squirm, deny. Truth is the scorpion that will always sting to spite itself.
Only one thing to know, revert to your nature, hold true, grip tight, let go to the rule of the universe and its chaos and precision that destroys and creates.

My date is about to show up and I need to sober up so maybe I should throw up.

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?