drifting

That was an interesting day, definitely not the same old same old. Like they say, like I’ve said.  Oh yeah, but the train came off the tracks, that day. Really, honestly. I’m not talking metaphors here; it’s real, it was really, really real.  Sometimes, when you just feel like reading the funnies because everything else in the freaking world is too real, all so vivid and ugly, well, even when your nose is stuck in the funny pages hiding from everything wrong, even then you’re vulnerable. Even at those times the train can come off the tracks. Even then, especially then, a life can change, a person can die. Yes, a very interesting day. I wondered, what happens now?

At first I didn’t see it, but I was moving toward one thing, all the time. My footsteps took me places I couldn’t see in advance. I wandered, always believing I’d turn up someplace, well, memorable. Somewhere historical, from my past, with people I knew. Friends, family I should glimpse one last time. Old friends and lovers; the dead I might commiserate with. But I never again saw another person I once knew, or even recognized. I figured it out eventually.

They were intersections.

I have seldom been a happy man, or even an overly zealous spirit. It’s the cloud you know, or the ‘soul’ I suppose you could say. Mine is fairly neutral, the neurons don’t lean much to one side or the other. I would liken the inner being, the nonmaterial self, to a cloud. Now I am set adrift, sockless, unshod to drift about here then there. But I’m following a path unknown to myself. Floating amongst the lives of others and witnessing intersections.

I am, I’m guessing now, to choose.

Most are like me, such as I was, and somewhere in the middle. That’s our lot in life, the great multitudes that make up our kind. We fall among the ranks of the forgettable. All together we make up just a tiny part of the whole. That’s how big the whole is, and the whole cannot be measured. It is that weighty and is more than just a number or demographics. Big, big stuff is the whole. I guess I should capitalize the word. It means that much, the Whole. I see it that way, in my head, well, in my mind that resides somewhere in a cloud. A cloud, adrift.

The Whole is everything. It’s not only souls, things, or atoms. The Whole. The Whole is everything. Dammit, it’s even more than that. When you glimpse it, and you will, then you will wish you might never have. The first time I felt like I might throw up because the Whole, just the part you can see in one glimpse, is nauseating. Seeing, feeling the Whole even in pieces – good grief – is like riding on the subway backwards, or tossing on the high seas in a boat as inconsequential as the flea on a brontosaurus. It is not to be explained, not by the likes of me or even Whitman, or Yeats. Or bloody Ginsberg. No one has the balls to define the Whole. If you want to know the truth, then the Whole is as much a thing as it is the absence of a thing, the void, a hole. Whole/Hole. It’s all the same. It’s all the same to me. And it isn’t.

As it is, I’ll leave the poets to it. Surely they know better than I and those whose spirits I may have brushed against probably torment themselves and even invent unnavigable syllables to prove me wrong. Their ions are most assuredly not neutral. They inherit a stormy unmitigated jumble of hair rending madness. Those who reside in vexing clouds will never see the forest for the trees. For them the intersections are backlit avenues in a rearview mirror. Gone, gone, gone.

Here I’ve let it go, viewing the Whole from the corner of my eye because that’s where I prefer it. Better yet I wish it lay beneath the reflections of darkened pools. I like to see what can be seen upside down and in reverse and the mysteries can hide down there – below - deep under the things we think we can touch. Even the concrete facts aren’t what we always thought they were, but in life it is what we are taught it is. That’s enough for you now. And for me now, too. It’s easier that way, and that kind of thinking stays the madness. Rationalizing keeps the Whole in corners: obscure, uninvited.

The deep thinkers won’t be moving on. Too busy, they are, dealing in dross. Maybe you’re beginning to wonder why the age of romantics is gone and never to circle back around. All of the great ones, or most, are sticking ass up from the muck. It’s an image not far from the truth. Only the menial can look beyond the void. That interesting day I was speaking of? It’s in the past. I’m perusing the options now, drifting through the intersections, working my way toward the top of the pyramid. Some of us, I guess, never choose. You feel might them, aimless, like a damp rag catching on your heels. There are a lot of choices, too many in fact. The intersections are endless and some never pan out. It’s hard to choose. The wrong choice can be pretty much the same as life and death; they go hand in hand you may as well know. Nobody gets out alive, once they’ve selected. Selected and admitted. This life, this living stuff, is an elite club. Most spirits never seem to make it and they don’t know what they’re missing.  Then again, I know. Here, I can tell you, from where I stand, life is no bowl of sugar. Nor is it a crock of shit, but for the moment I’m clear of it. My intersection is, blessedly, somewhere off the grid. If I’ve derailed in my past life, then I’m content here this moment beyond the third rail.

Beyond a distant curve I think I have seen around the Whole without going mad. There is a boy and a girl and he is leading her on a pony. My atoms have done the math and the probabilities are endless, but they aren’t finite. She’ll marry another, but it’s his son she’ll have. The son will find another and that is the intersection I’ve glimpsed on the brim of the void. It’s caught in a whirlwind but I’ve thrown down a line and only time, a lifetime of time, will tell the whole story. I’m not eager to begin anew, but treading this slurry is joyless even to a neutral soul. I long now and then to skim across some manic and feel the prickle of chaos. There is no anarchy in the hereafter; it’s only a waiting game where the points don’t add up. Some win, some lose. Some go down the drain.

Rub a dub dub.

Experimenting with Roman Numerals Day XX10+iIi

... and the devil took his elevator up from way down lowwwwwwwwwww ,

... and it said .........

... all this can be yours ,


for only ....






this is what early morning t.v. viewing can do to you : ruin your personal optics , transform neurons into moron conductors , create slogs of corpuscular sludge , kill your initiative , alienate your cohabitants , maim your sense of right and wrong , destroy your faith in the world its people and the belief that God exists because how could He allow something so immoral to go on and on and on without sending down an all-new-fangled plague and maybe a big flood , too ? Well , maybe perhaps that will happen next too and also so .

Really , but do i have to give you my phone number or e-mail address or anything ? because nothing free is actually worth it ... or it wouldn't be free ...

...guaranteed satisfaction , or your money back !

whatever , it is snowing now .

The snow , the snow . The snow . Snow snow snow snow snow . Snow .
Snow is a funny word , now that i look at it . All alone . Look at it ... alone :


snow


Who comes up with these words !???

Experimenting with Roman Numerals Day ex-ex-vee-i-i

Hens & Chicks; Chicks & pennys; Oh-- on a Rock ! YES: I AM A CAMERA !!! (YES< YES) This Brit penny is now worth 12 American dollars...yesterday i stopped at speedway and filled my tank with just this one Bristish penny--because it's value doubled 6 times in an hour--AND i topped off some guy's SUV who i didn't even know !!! It was incredible--if you have any of these British pennys then don't accidently spend them at walmart or ditch them at cracker barrel as a tip (like i know you used to do with all those Canadian dimes !) because these British pennys are gold. The penny above it, you know ol' honest Abe, that penny costs more then 3 dollars to produce and is worth about as much as dryer lint--at least with dryer lint you can collect it and knit it into a blanket to keep you warm this winter in your cardboard box. If you move your box into the landfill the rising gasses provide a minimum of warmth, so the lint blankie is a sound choice...or a nice red lint-sweater is good too, and stylish. By the way, these hens&chicks can grow to the size of volkswagons with a lot of ozoneless gamma rays and the right amount of toxic fertilizer and they make excellant windstops for your box, or boxes if you had an addition put together with weather proof duct tape. I like the colored stuff...camaflouge is good--helps to confuse the hobos. This Just in, some Middle Eastern zillionaire just traded in all his british pennies for onehundredbillionSusanBAnthonyDollars which lost half their value after he stopped to tie his shoelaces and then he bought SouthDakota and turned it into a SuperKmart/GoCart tracklotionOnYourKneesUnderAFantasticTreeSucculantPerenial/SushiBar/
OffTrackCamelRaceParlor/DiscountTeaHouse/DiscountCigaretteBurnYourUpholstryFunhouse/
FlipFlopsAreGreat/PoliticianGetAwayStripperClub/BowlingAlley&HotWings&StylishShoeMart/
ShoePhoneOutlet/OhNeverMindThisIsGettingStupid!!!!!!!


...one more wasted page, a near empty sheet ripped from the machines sanguine grip and crudely ovined, discarded to the circular file...
















Once, in his youth, when the days seemed longer and life hadn't begun to pull at the worn treads of his trademark loafers, Edgar bummed a pickle.

Experimenting with Roman Numerals Day XXvI

The Mysteries of Life explained , in code :

I have kindof blindly cruised through the Blogland and found that most Bloggers in the land of Blog are foreign speaking , that is speaking a different language other then English , or twelve . I have no ability in reading anything except English , and also I am not twelve . Therefore I have decided that other Bloggers in Blogland hold no interest for me . I am alone . Of course , that means that the other-than-English-speaking-Bloggers and the twelve year olds have no interest in me , too . Either , also and for-too-so .
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Whew , I am relieved ; now I can just blog on and on about stuff that I have always longed to , and not keep forcing myself to write only what I thought other Bloggers wanted to hear . This , because I now know nobody is reading this : the twelve year olds could care less and the other-than-English-speakers cannot read it anyway . To them it looks like this : 90833588#%%2537897&*&(?:LLKOug9jifjii woof woof duck , turtle.
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First in my arsenal is the fact that I have trouble reading tea leaves . I drink a lot of tea , so of course I think I should really be good at this . It would be great to start the day off with a cup of tea and then know what will happen for the remainder of the day . Like : watch out , there is a box that will fall off onto your head , so be sure to look up . Or : that lady who drives you bonkers will do it again today ; you should just turn around and go the other way . And : ho-hum ; it will be boring from around 10:30 to 11:45 so maybe sharpen your pencil and do a crossword . A 5 letter word for cavort is frisk .
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I am starting to experiment with the tea reading . It is sort of difficult , because I prefer Lipton tea . Not many leaves . At first I tried Maple leaves from the yard . Then I just dunked some Frosted Flakes from my bowl into my teacup . That was sort of messy , but tasted better than the Maple leaves . Have I peeked the interest of any twelve year olds yet ?
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I have decided against reading tea leaves . Of course , it was a success , but in retrospect , knowing that you will fill out multiple reports and receive several venders and post bills and log this and log that and order a couple of these and some of those just isn’t the sort of thing a person wants to think about at 4:30 in the morning over a cup of mushy tea . I prefer sitting in my socks and moaning for a few minutes . Ahhhhhhhhgggg . Uhhhhhhhhhhg . Blluubbbbblubuh blublabuhb . Zzzzzzzzzzz .
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So far this is the most accurate account I have blogged of my life , and it is all because I have stopped writing for the masses and instead for only myself : the only person in Blogland who is reading this . So there , all you plfff wobum speakers and twelve-sies . Goodnight , and good luck .
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Who said that ?

Experimenting with Roman Numerals Day XXFive

This afternoon's daily rant of the hour ( disregard if you have had your own rant in mind ; however if you are in the mood for a daily up-to-date rant , but don't want to think of your own , then feel free to consider this one ) .

Today , as it snows ( see snow , below ) I contemplate a heroic tale . I am making this up as I go , be warned . The world needs a new hero , a super duper hero , someone like Batman or Aquaman who has the people’s best interests at heart . Someone , or something , who isn’t in it for the money or fame or even the plush surroundings of a comfortable lifestyle . Someone who doesn’t live life around fun or wine or women ( or men or insects ) or what’s on the telly tonite or who’s going to the super bowl . We need a hero devoted to our values and our lifestyle and committed to putting a fuel efficient automobile in every one’s driveway or garage or alley or curb or underground parking lot . Yes , we need Bill , or Warren or any other number of super rich gazzillionaires to step up to the plate and give every man women and child a handout . Because we know the government is too intent on giving away all of our tax money to the richest people in America who have already had a chance to spend their money wisely and consider the future , but who instead decided to line their pockets and get theirs while the getting was good .

Now , you’ll see , it is the hardest working people who will suffer while these fat-cats hoard all the money and buy up the best of what we’ve got to make themselves richer and fatter .

Now , on a lighter note , wouldn’t it be nice if we could also all have ice cream ? And fried chicken ? And mashed potatoes ? Every professional athlete making more then one million dollars a year should buy food and snacks for a designated community as often as possible instead of wasting their salaries ( getting paid millions to play a game ? ) on guns and strippers . There are people out there who had to actually pay for their education who are not making anywhere near a million dollars a year . Can you say 30,000 , or 20,000 , or less ? Geez Louise ! How do they afford T bones and caviar on that sort of green ? Some of them can barely feed their children , let alone 6 dozen mistresses and a colony of bodyguards and childhood friends all driving large black SUVs .
Isn’t the snow pretty ?

Experimenting with Roman Numerals Day XXII

Nothing nothing nothing nothing if repeated enough times is no longer random but meaningless . In the long long long sequence of Pi how many times in a row is one digit repeated ? If ‘nothing’ could be substituted for the number 8 , how many times could the word ( nothing , corresponding to ’8’ --does that make sense ? -- ) be repeated in one sequence ? Actually , seeing as I have no idea what I’m talking about , and don’t care and neither does anybody else , what does it matter ( question mark ) .

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On to more important things ….
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There are rubber thingies on the desk , in a sealed plastic bag . I do not know what they belong to . Also there is Scotch tape , several paper clips -- some of the spiral variety -- ear buds , 3 pens and 2 pencils , Webster’s Thesaurus , a couple dozen shiny picture hanging nails , several dice of all colors and sides , a glass’ case -- empty -- a be-noted and torn piece of scrap paper , a stack of CD-R’s , an extra button sleeve complete with the extra button , and dust .
No money . That’s a shame ; I could use the money ; everything else is crap .

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It is almost 3 . I have been awake now for 11 hours . I think it is about time for a nap . I spent twenty three dollars ( and change , add some zeroes ) this afternoon . Money well spent ? Only time will tell . There is a broken Zune also , in its box .
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I have a Kleenex and lint in my pocket . My nose is a bit runny . It has been very cold this week . Unseasonably cold . This blog entry is way too revealing . Everything from here on will be a lie .
My dog is chewing on my running shoe . Stop it , Sam , bad dog . That shoe has more then 600 miles on it . The other one has about the same , maybe less because I like to hop on one leg occasionally for a few miles to fight boredom . I belong to a skipping club . Next week is the 10K Skip for Arthritis Skip . For 25 dollars you get to skip with a bunch of other skippers and get a T-shirt . And there’s milk and cookies afterwards . And Gatorade and a banana .
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Jelly Donut .
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A glass of orange juice every day cancels out all the bad stuff you do . You can smoke a pack a day and have twelve Twinkies plus drink a glass of orange juice and you will live to be a hundred and eleven . The cigarettes have to be Marlboro Box Sea-kelps . I prefer the one hundreds . And Twinkies is a euphemism for …ahem . You know . The orange juice is really OJ . Really -- I’m not kidding . But who wants to live that long anyway . Unless of course you can skip right up until the end ; then sign me up .
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And have Twinkies . Ahem .
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These spiral paper clips are really kind of neat … and they work just fine . That part was true .

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Experimenting with Roman Numerals Day XXI

It has been established through the exertions of others I might add that commas are really not ever needed and that with a series of connector words and or full stops an author could essentially write an entire novel without ever using one . A comma I mean .

Froget your English teacher and so what if you occasionally misspell a word as long as everyone knows what you’re trying to say why sweat a couple misplaced letters. Commas appear to be a preference and not the rule or so I have read .

Actually every country has its own punctuation rules and every author has his or her own interpretation so there that’s my story and I’m sticking to it . The more famous an author you are the more quirky you are allowed to be although the critics may disagree . So what if they argue for one point or the other it is really only the readers that count and of course the dollars they will shell out for a favorite author’s new novel .

That is all I have to say about that and I sincerely hope that you all have a groovy day or night whichever applies best to your circumstance . Toodles .

Did Andy Warhol (spellcheck wants to make him a warthog) ever do a series on punctuation ?

I guess the lowly semi-colon isn’t as exciting as a soup can .

Experimenting with Roman Numerals Day XX .

Faces , and the faces that the faces wear . It’s a put on . In this new world , this future age , we can carry extra faces and around every corner we can open our face bag and exchange one face for another . Look , up the street is a man who’s face doesn’t match his gait . It is a wonky and aimless way he ambles in and amongst the crowd , while his face is confident and goal orientated . We meet , and we trade legs . Now our legs match our faces . Today is Tuesday , I think my old Tuesday face no longer reflects my modern Tuesday sensibility , so I’m going to the face store , Faces , for a one of those popular faddish faces . And a cappuccino . Face you later .

Experimenting with Roman numerals , day V + V subtract I

I apologize for all the stupid stuff .

I've been talking to some people , or maybe they are imaginary people , but they have the craziest ideas about living .

You know how some people will say about other people , "They're kind of different," ? well , according to these people i have communication with , EVERYBODY says that about everybody else .

yea , yea , i know ! It's true . So take a step back and try to look at yourself from some whacko's side of the street and see what they see .

My splenic nerve has been in constant communication with me for 14 years , now . It speaks to me mostly in dark places ; it makes me see fruit bowls in odd circumstances . Sometimes there are monkeys , too , and they are always throwing the fruit into corners and wearing wooden bowls over their heads , so i can never see their eyes .

Also , i'm thinking of trading in my lawn mower for a goat . Not for the reason you're thinking of , though .

Not that i don't care about the environment , or gas prices , or the exercise issues : Of course all those things are imp-ortant.

Here's the best reason : To annoy the neighbors ! The same neighbors who play loud music and let their dogs bark all night and poop on your lawn . The neighbors who party too late and set off fireworks when you are asleep and park in your spot and throw beer bottles over the fence . The neighbors who are unfriendly to the point of not only not smiling and waving and borrowing a cup of sugar , but instead they spew foul language and exude foul odors and steal your newspaper .

I'm not sure how a goat will upset this sort of person , so it's a stupid idea . Never mind .

I like potato chips . It has got to stop . But what is a good substitute for potato chips ? I ask you ; i ask all my friends , all my imaginary earthly cohabitants . What is better than a chip ?

Nothing .

pathetic .. that's all for that .

... these are some monsters that i know . They enjoy sitting and veging and being lit up .