Archive for November, 2016

MacGyver got drunk.

’twas a long and taxing day.





Live to fight another day.

Correct some wrong,


(What more do I have to say?


Cold Warrior,

Here to stay!)


Idiots mislead,

breach the peace

of a short-lived idyll.

The phone or some other alarm rings.

We wake up after 6 hours of sleep.

Good morning, wakeful day,

all lies and bullshit,

beginning to end,

money the bottom line,

avarice and greed for some,

survival for most,

we satisfy the needs that be.

To perpetuate the constructs of power,

they tell us we get meaning from our jobs…



(but for the basest vestiges,

occasional brainwaves,

self-satisfying stimulation)

most of our lives

are meaningless.


Change of pace,

exit the rat race,

gain some perspective,

time and space.

Time to read an article,

which promises to be insightful:

the gruelling life and times of a professional road cyclist…

The dedication it takes,

sweat and pain,

to make it,

he emphasizes:

no time for a social life,

no friends outside the cycling team,

no life as you would recognize it,

just training, eating and resting,

so he says.

Apparently it pays off:

there’s a picture at the end of the heroic, dedicated road cyclist standing on the podium, he’s holding his young child proudly, sharing the race victory, looking over and smiling at his wife.

Instant family?

Obviously the road cyclist is full of shit.


The establishment is appropriately respectful

when a soldier, old or young, dies.


In actuality,

behind closed doors,

they praise the passing

of another man, woman or child

who has seen

and/or knows

too much…



for who we are, what we bring,

value, love, increase.


fundamental human need,

without it we decrease,

collectively, individually,

we wither, die…



and because I can,

I climb the stairs

to my room

and lie down

on a beanbag

(does furniture get any better?).

I close my eyes and drift into the ether,

a higher plane of existence,

unconsciousness and sleep,

where I am not in control, truly,

but anything is possible.

I am floating

and I look down on America,

I like what I see,


But talk of left and right here

baffles me.

Where I am from,

Communists and socialists *are* the conservatives,

it’s the so-called liberals who are most corrupt and debauched.

Economy and morality.

Persecution for anyone who doesn’t agree,

kiss ass,


Sick, sad, world.


I had some time (freizeit).

I had some freedom (freiheit).

So I decided to get naked and shave,

perhaps epilate,

down under.

Actually, I felt a compulsion…

I don’t mind a little hair, but once it gets to a certain length and thickness, and/or coarseness, it’s annoying, it makes me feel old, like Budapest, 1966.

Some women insist they do it for hygiene…

In a sense, I do too, for cleansing.

Body and mind.

I do it because it feels right,

so right

and beautiful,


Contaminant gone.


I feel more like myself again.


I was determined to make my freedom count.

So, I stopped counting seconds and minutes, for a while.

I took my watch off

(My beloved Swatch with the Stakhanov name and design!),

I stopped looking at the hands and appreciated the art.




Ironic really, given my new circumstances.


Okay, first thing’s first,

the basest thing,


I was alone and without a job and/or income.

What, me worry?


I didn’t have a job and/or income in my early childhood

and I was somewhat happier then than I have been of late,

I rationalized to myself, effecting a simper.

Yes, the future was ahead of me back then,

I was 100% potential,


predetermined to an extent,


so why not be excited by going back to the future thus?


Changing global labor realities,

we are expected to be adaptable,

blah, blah, blah,

news reports and experts know

the robots are coming.

I took a sip of beer.



A lot can happen in one day,

or even in a few minutes, within a day.

Things can come together,

or fall apart.

Lives can change,

good and bad.

The phone rang again.

I answered.

She said it was good news.

I was confused.

(We all have a different perspective…)

I was presented with a problem,

and a distinct lack of choice.

What I was being told to do was an impossibility,

but how could I say no?

Words jarred, clashed and clanged inside my flushed, rising temperature head.

So, I said: “Thank you for letting me know…”

without actually saying I’d do as expected.

Good bye.

I guessed it meant I’d be on my own from then on,

with a target on my back.

Hollow, somewhat gutted,

I felt free.