Archive for July, 2015

Blot.

Posted: 2015-07-12 in Thoughts For The Day

So fucking tired. So tired. Worn down by the current and the past. Some river, life flows by. All the complications which no one else seems to be bothered with, uniquely mine, in one fucked up package. Words don’t do it justice, the pain – I so want to curl up into a foetal position on the floor, and just be, eyes closed, enveloped by thoughts and nothingness in a darkened room, detaching myself from reality (if at all possible).

I hate you, I hate me, I hate words and whistling and birds, trees and bees.

Leave me in peace, leave me to rot. I don’t want to know, I don’t want to blot.

Yes, reach out and touch faith, especially in times of hardship and pain (like now), just avoid the purveyors of the business model of “the church”, yes, those who misquote and abbreviate Scripture. … Spontaneous prayer is good (the 1600s Scots has some good ideas during the big chill – is burning a witch ever bad? … Of course it depends on the reality and the motives and the hallucinogens involved…), I recommend it.

Once again, he’s on about money & giving, & faith, the implications are obvious. At one point he says the Bible instructs that the whole point of working is to earn so that we can help others (that quickly evolves into his ministry, empire, cult). It repulses me. The millionaire preacher fleecing his flock. … Tonight he will drive home to his gated sanctuary, breathe artificial oxygen, get high, do his workout (pumped), reinvigorate his self-righteousness (so much for grace!). … Tomorrow he will write his next sermon where, again (fuck!), he tells us to give ourselves away and denigrates the guy who copes by having a drink.

Words.

Posted: 2015-07-09 in Thoughts For The Day

Shit! Words?

Tired.

Stimulants help, sometimes. We are indeed sometimes receptive to what the writer or speaker says. But we are generally deafened.

Airspace is full and loud, but barely comprehensible, babble – it lulls us into an induced coma. We choose not to fight.

Back to basics.

Posted: 2015-07-08 in Thoughts For The Day

Yes, there is something special about getting naked and airing your genitals, healthy. Whether others appreciate or not. Go with it. Whether the clock’s pendulum stops ticking, or not. Drink some beer. Think. Reflect. Ponder. Go to bed.

Sigh. Yes, I like the vibe and what it projects, I want that aspect of life in my reality. I wannabe like her, that model, in the nice setting, living what appears to be a nice life. I wannabe a piece of cardboard, or kind of plasticky paper (depending on the publisher). I wanna have the chance to live the way I see is possible, before I die. I wanna live and be immortalized. Oh, Lord, help me.

It’s funny, strange, Abdul, I’ve been feeling very sympathetic towards your faith of late – something sent me down that line, news reports and feelings of being on the periphery. But, hey, now, take a breath, your self-righteousness (booming in my ears) has sent me back fervently to crossing myself and feeling nothing but detachment from you and your vitriol. … I like to be me.

Yes, I saw those guys pulling your top apart and squeezing your breasts, as you grinned stupidly. Yes, I saw your camel toe. You looked happy.

Should I doubt it?

Did you really like it, or are you just a fame-junkie, a people-pleaser?

Bikini.

Pacific.

Specific.

Nuclear. Two-piece. What is kinda kept revealed is atomic in power. The mind boggles. A decaying concrete dome covers truly toxic shit. A thin fabric covers beautiful assets.

The power of life and death, beauty and ashes. Your modesty is ultimately wasted.

How white they seem. How rich and well-connected they must be. These people behind home plate at Nationals Park. They pay to watch the gentle gladiators play their game. We get stuck with seeing them front and centre on our TV screens, comfy seats, with advertising of a luxury bent visible.

Yeah, they’re all most likely defense contractors, and their families and friends. Who says the US Government is much different from the Calabrian Mafia?

Meanwhile, in the bullpen, they chew and spit.