Archive for July, 2015

Always Something.

Posted: 2015-07-31 in Thoughts For The Day

There’s always something to break the camel’s back. Another complication and burden, cunningly devised by the one who hates, to hit at exactly the wrong time. A small thing in itself, it adds to the excess baggage in your life, handles start to fray. Rip and tear. Gone, baby, gone. The camel’s now a quadriplegic, the experts say it’d be best to put down, put out of its misery. Bang! Welcome to your future, welcome to your past, the inevitability of hell on earth.

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Alienated… Isn’t that such a big part of life in this world?

I feel, you feel, we all squeal.

Misscommunication.

Posted: 2015-07-20 in Uncategorized

I try, but the words don’t come out of my mouth much like what I hear in my head. So different. I hate the sounds I hear.

Time.

Posted: 2015-07-19 in Uncategorized

The asshole across the street who seems to have all the time in the world, cleaning his car so precisely, sigh, he sickens me to the core, but I don’t have time to analyze, let alone change anything.

Just Words.

Posted: 2015-07-18 in Thoughts For The Day

Words. Just words, some say. But words are everything, perhaps they’re all we’ve got. Words are all-important. We see them, hear them, feel them. They are God’s gift, generally.

But then, just. … Just is a horrible and inadequate word, in most situations, I loathe it.

Goodbye soon.

Posted: 2015-07-17 in Thoughts For The Day

Fucking adverts, you repulse me, do you really think there’s a chance of me buying your shit? You waste your money with these ad exec guru twerps. Get over yourselves.

I don’t want to bet.

And I don’t want to pay to watch soccer.

Sunglasses perched on head. Eyes squinting in the Swedish summer sunshine. Crows-feet straining. This is tennis, backwards and forwards, on clay, blond hair and tanned skin. Rejoice, it’s not winter. Despair, it’s not an Australian tour, and weeds are growing stupendously.

The human condition. Stupidity reigns.

Tomorrow.

Posted: 2015-07-16 in Thoughts For The Day

A year gone by, really? Already? Still the father cries, involuntarily, mainly internally, he dies a little more every day, upon waking and remembering the reality that his beautiful daughter is dead.

She was his only child. And she died so senselessly, innocently, blasphemously: in someone else’s country, someone else’s conflict, someone else’s evil intent gone awry.

Yes, probably it was all a mistake, but does it really matter? The intent of the ground-to-air cacophony of death was still evil, the intent was to kill and maim horribly, sacrilegiously. And the fact that no one is willing to be decent, own-up to the blunder and apologize, well that just makes the hurt all that more acute, obtuse and oblique all at the same torturous time.

Sigh.

What a waste.

And still the killing goes on.

You know what, motherfucker, I’m kinda glad that you haven’t replied to my sincerely written endeavour. When I remember what you represent. … Hmm.

I offered of myself, a piece of my heart and soul. You chose to ignore, disregard. Sigh, what a waste. But, hey, then again, I always knew that what you produce has always repulsed me, now you yourself repulse me too.

I have loftier ambitions than you could fathom. I want to change the world for the better, to enlighten and inform, broaden horizons and inspire. You just want to regurgitate bile and crap, the lowest common denominator, the basest stories of human experience, here and now, so very local and narrow. Fuck you, editors. You make your worker bees churn out shit quick-fire, mindless and painful, like diarrhea.

Redemption possible?

All it would take would be a simple, short reply, one way or the other, let me know where you stand. But obviously that is beneath you, so important in your mediocrity and baseness, you’re oblivious now to decency and “common sense”.

Your loss.

Your newspapers suck.

Your newspapers suck people further into inevitable depression, despair and death.

I don’t want to be part of the vicious-circle cancer you’ve bought into.

After all, I just got out of prison. I’m free.

Insidious.

Posted: 2015-07-14 in Thoughts For The Day

The girl kinda somehow wishes she had almost actually been physically been harmed, in an obvious and accepted way. Instead of the insidious, torturous torment she suffered which lingers today and into the future. People don’t understand.

I get it. I live it.

Encroachments.

Posted: 2015-07-13 in Thoughts For The Day

The best intentions, life-affirming and planet-improving, pure as can be, they get molested and perverted by encroachments, demands from others, complications, curses.

Twisted.

Sigh, if only we were free to truly pursue what we believe we should be. If only life left us be, gave us peace and quiet, like a log cabin in a calm mountain setting, inhale, exhale, calm, no bears clawing at the door. If only.