Sunday Morning Thoughts 10.21.12

And with the wink of an eye, all of this life passes and crashes and if you be foolhardy enough to look for any kind of reason, you may very well find one. Reason is quite unreliable though. I can personally attest to that, or at least I believe I can. You see, the truth business is a bad one to be in. I suppose I should have stuck with marketing like was forcibly decided, then changed, based upon deception half a decade ago. But then I wouldn’t be here which I am uncertainly certain that I am, if such a thing as here is much of anything.

That’s absurd, of course it is. It’s not delusion for it is only and always perception. And what I perceive is skewed against the long forged fallacies of life. I am trapped, so to speak, or better yet, jammed. I am positioned in a place of brutally limited motion, and although it be temporary, my mind, she bends the time. She makes it so that I can only wait and worry consciously whilst making successful ventures without a thought. Some of them even have the pleasure of meaning something to me. I couldn’t say how many were meant by some, but I perceive some, or at least at time I did.

And that has gotten me here, seemingly buried in nonsense that only hinders the crafts, and trades, and skills that I crave to hone. Yet the political economy I am lucky enough to have, gave me no explanation in how it got here, and less to do with where such a beast will go. Look as it foams from behind its teeth and drips every drop upon the floor.

The future is a drag the way we try and have it. Too much limit I suppose. The extra weight from the shackles will force us to make a much more harsh landing. Insert metaphorical death comfort statement.

And there’s the crash again and you’ve found yourself in a place and there’s trees dripping with golden fire and yet you sit about and complain about agreed upon engagements. They’ll take away your life for the cost of only one soul. So what does it take to get it back?

If I knew such things, I would wish to find other answers. I ask my reflection for the only stern advice a drunkard would be willing to confirm as worthy of recognition. They look to me for affection but I am only so capable. Don’t look at me with worried looks, I can handle all that is placed upon me and then some. I didn’t want to play such games, yet that choice was not left to my making. ‘Twas decided way before I was even considered. How inconsiderate.

So here’s the alternative answer. It doesn’t leave, if it was ever there to begin with. It’s a scar, if you like. We pick our plot points and despite how most of them end up being B-list at best, we are consumed with grand ideas of value that is there. Can’t you see it? All about and around and we, as in you and I, just wondering about why, or more importantly, who cares?

You’ll have to pardon me. It’s election season and I can’t decide whether to vote or not. They say every vote counts but for me personally, that’s bullshit. If I do vote, I’m voting for a third party.

“Would you like a medium or large?”

“Small please.”

“We don’t have small.”

“Well what the fuck?” said he as a chair was grabbed and raised over his head. Through the window and into the parking lot. He didn’t move for a bit, then he did. The next person sets up to the counter as Julio sweeps up the glass.

And seemingly suddenly this rage that has become too familiar, is yet again rising upon me. Here I sit after whining about not have the time to do the things I care to craft for weeks and I get the shot and I’m so out of practice that nothing seems to fall forth. Out of the many issues, grammatical and not, occurring in that last bit, two of them stand out.

First.

Whining takes up time: I don’t got that kind of time. Stop whining, save time. How’s that for a tagline? I should be on the goddamn radio.

Second.

Nothing comes forth? Are you fucking kidding me? You spend all day freaking out and daydreaming and yelling and going off about this and that, and this makes me mad and why do I have to do this, why, why, why? And yet, when the time comes you can only continue to complain. At least now, it’s about myself.

So there was this guy, right? Lived on the other side of the world and worked in this sketchy place. And his boss dies, and his boss was a pretty big dickhead but there’s supposed to be a designated time that everyone is supposed to mourn for, like required by law, when this guy’s boss died.

And this guy, who’s a military kind of guy, has a few drinks allegedly. And since it was supposedly during this mandatory time of mourning, the dickhead boss’ son gets all fired up about it and since he’s the one calling the shots now, he decides on an action. So that military guy is told to stand in this one spot, where they send a mortar shell to meet this military guy. They meet and both he and the shell cease to be. He was charged with being ‘insufficiently glum’ which earned him the sentence of being erased from the physical world. This actually happened, allegedly.

Why go on with a story like that? I’m not going to answer that. My apologies, but I just can’t. Or won’t really.

Regardless, there is no more time for nonsense mostly because I don’t know if there is anything called time to begin with. I have to continue to play like there is, but that will be worked away. The thoughts I have in regards to being stuck in this body is that I had best exhaust every effort that I am capable of conceiving. But here I am, only talking about it again.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s