Rambling on

Funny how there's so little time. Even with time spent on money making enterprises, a homeless guy's got all the time in the world, you'd think. It's not so. I am exhausted by the efforts of survival. My thoughts are only of survival, not of marriage or shopping or whatever the average person thinks about. It's hard to explain. My whole day is just taken up this struggle. Valentine's day was a good example.

What a fucking bitch that was. I was on my knees praying for death. Maybe the whole valentine thing did get to me, I don't know. My head was split in two with a headache. I just couldn't unwind. Naturally, I thought of miss perfect Debby and her perfect goddam life and how obnoxious she would be on a day like that. I tried to use my imagination for therapy like I usually do. I imagined sending flowers to where she worked. She would assume they were from her husband and from approval-driven Debby's perspective she would love to have it be seen on how much he supposedly loved her. Then she would open the card and read something she would perceive as completely delusional like "I still love you" and see my name. What a spot she would be in then! She of the perfect life having to publicly explain flowers from a creep! Delicious. But I would feel a lot of guilt doing that so I probably wouldn't even if I could. Probably...

Back to the time thing, it's frustrating I can't just blog all the time. It's like there's x amount of energy to a day and that's what counts, not how much supposed time you have. Energy I don't have. I put a lot of effort into my posts. Most blogs are boring as hell and I hate that. The idea is to share and give something of yourself. Let me have some insight into you. It's amazing how I can be in a quiet spot sometimes and have all sorts of great ideas run through my head. But if I try to make the effort to put them down they disappear. I just wish I could remove that barrier.

The lack of energy I think comes from so much spent on concern for my future and deep depression. If I say I'm depressed, though, morons will jump on that and say, "Aha! He's homeless because he depressed!" No, moron, I'm depressed because I'm homeless. But they want to try and attack the person because, you know, the world is like perfect. They never stop to think I might be normal. I mean, take their home and car and family away from their sorry asses and see how damn happy they are. Somehow, I'm not supposed to need all those things.

I could go on rambling I guess. I always imagine someone on the other side reading all this mess and I hear what they say. It's not necessarily valid, but I hear the voice. I hear what everyone's saying. Even if you think someone is saying nothing, they are saying something. You hear about someone killing another person over a jar of peanut butter or something equally trivial. That's not why they killed them. It happened because someone's life has disintigrated to the point where that was a life and death situation. Arguments like that are not trivial, they are a cry for help. It's just that no one wants to listen. I hear you, though. I hear all you fuckers. I know all the tricks of desperation.

So in closing, the good Padre here will reiterate one of his favorite messages: Peace on the outside is determined by the peace within.

True meaning of Flower Power

"Everybody needs a place to rest
"Everybody wants to have a home
"Don’t make no difference what nobody says
"Ain’t nobody like to be alone."
Bruce Springsteen - "Hungry Heart"

Everybody wants love. "Love is the biggest issue," said Yoko Ono. ALL things lead back to love. All the wars and debates, the living and dying, the hugging and kissing - it all gets traced back to the desire for love. I read the "Final Days" about Tricky Dick Nixon. One of the major issues on whether or not he would resign was the reaction his family might have. Not politics, or the good of the country or some other bullshit, just: "Will my family still love me?". That's all decisions in a microcosm.

In clips of the sixites you see kids sticking flowers in the soldiers' guns and that's a nice statement and everything. But I found true flower power to be something else. People lie about themselves - and I know that. We are often times afraid to admit we need something we may never get. But let me tell you, there is no greater joy than finding tenderness. Torment wanes and the river of life starts to flow. You start looking to build rather than destroy. And a flower is born in Heaven.

"Love is the answer and you know that for sure,
"Love is a flower you got to let it, you got to let it grow"
John Lennon - "Mind Games"

Debby brought such a flower into my life. In the morning sun, on my drive into work, I had a vision of it. It was a solitary flower surrounded in all blackness except for a golden light shining on it. The flower too was gold, and alive. This was the flower created by me and Debby. And I started bawling because I knew it was going away.

Once tenderness has been tasted, you don't ever want to go without. Everyone tells you life's about being hard. Don't listen to them, they won't survive. Flower Power rules the earth. And when we admit that, things will be better. (But you dickless bastards can keep hugging your guns if you want)

Blogging is like...

Blogging is like flashing with your eyes closed - you're exposing yourself but you don't know if anyone sees it. There's a sense of embarrasment that creeps in. Not in my posts where I'm revealing my wounds of loneliness and rejection, surprisingly. But in my ranting and raving I notice it. Seems somehow someone with a life wouldn't be so concerned about such matters. I look at those posts and I think, "A tempest in a teapot." But it's all me. And it all needs to get out.

If you want to see me

You can. I'm in "Five Easy Pieces".

Bobby Dupea is me. In conventional terms I'm supposed to be smart, my IQ tests out in the top 2%. But intelligence is determined by the choices you make, not your genetic background - as so many choose to think. Like those in the film, I'm shattered in certain ways. And I see the world in those terms too.

The walking wounded are everywhere. Seems most of us are running from something - with some forms of running more acceptable than others. You can hide in your job, your marriage, or some other respectable institution, but hiding it is. "Five Easy Pieces" exposes all of that.

Oh, not everyone is like that, I know. There was Jill, a nurse I used to work with. She was a hero of mine. She was open on anything lacking in her life. But she was a seeker, always looking for new avenues. As part of that she started a night class in literature or some such. She told me the teacher said he never gave out A's, that no one was that deserving. So she read the paper she wrote to me to see what I thought. I told her I saw no flaws in it but then what did I know? She was so excited the next day when she showed me she was the only one to get an A.

Like Mickey Rourke said in "Diner": "If you don't have good dreams, you have nightmares." Seems dreams aren't optional after all.

The Alien perspective

I always liked the scene in "Die Hard" where the safecracker is flipping through the stack of bearer bonds, bouncing and giggling. We'uns sure does gets excited 'bout paper. Yessuh, we sure does!

But just what is this fascination with paper?

Suppose aliens were to land here. How would we explain our valuing paper? How could we explain our placing it over life itself? What would they think of us having a god made of wood?

What? Us backwards?

In some parts of the world, the aliens will see children sell their bodies for food. In other places, there's no food at any price. Where there is food, they pray to the paper god so they may keep it.

It's pretty laughable now when you read about people in the Bible making little wooden statues and praying to them to make them safe. They would bury them under their houses for protection. When the aliens show up, that's the same laugh they will use on us.

See? That's the problem with moneyism. It's just so hard to get around that First Commandment thingy.

Life Story

• Was Born
• Grew up sick
• Got thrown out into the world
• Didn't make it
  

Psycho Senator Strikes!

I was watching in Walmart's TV section (hey, don't knock it, I watched the entire Waco complex burn down there) where some psycho senator was proposing mandatory health insurance for everyone in his state. I forget his name so for right now we'll call him The Cunt. The Cunt was comparing this to mandatory car insurance, since driving is a privilege he said, not a right. And so now breathing is to be considered a privilege I suppose. Anyone caught breathing without health insurance will be shot! The Cunt said those without insurance were freeloaders. All things must appease the money god before peoples' welfare was his attitude.

Well, Cunt, how 'bout this: Every time you want to pass a law legalizing rape, we'll just tie your wife up spread-eagled in the public square with a sign saying "Freebies inside". Maybe that will wipe the smile off your smirking ass. (Or maybe not considering how morally bankrupt you are). Christ, what a cocky bastard he was. People like this are sick. What's irresponsible is not lacking money, what's irresponsible is requiring money.