SuicidalUtopia.com

INDEPENDENCE DAY ANNIVERSARY

Welcome to Earth, where everyday is a near death experience.

It’s morning, I’m mourning.  

Acedro, my co-worker, asked me my religion at lunch.  We were moving sand, as sadly, sand does not move itself.  I told him my religion was nothing, I had beliefs and they were mine.  He nodded.  Time passed, my burrito thought of passing.

I’m Kathuleek,” he said.

The religious topic had passed, I was onto repositioning sand.  No comprendo.

He repeated, I got it.

He’s Catholic.  

He said with verbal and visual communication that his son was sick one.  A fever.  A very bad fever.  Hands locked into claws, lockjaw the doctor said they would do what they could.

Acedro needed a church.  He knew the church he wanted.  He knew he needed to chat with God.  He needed to ask why?  

He walked to the church.  Asking why.  On the way people offered food…

He walked and asked and called home and walked and asked.

…and shelter.

He walked for nine days to the church.  He called home, the fever broke.

I’m not religious, but this was a wonderful story.  This world needs wonderful stories.

I know "migrant work" has not really been the topic.  It just gives me the time to think and observe.

The sound of planes overhead means the world is trying to find normalcy.  Yet there is a distinct lack of unrarity in military planes.  Not fighters, transports.  The swooping plane into the twin towers will never leave.

I have been forcing beautiful women into the conscious, this helps.  Beautiful, kind, intelligent, pleasant, charming women.  I know I will be with her.  I’m not sure where or when or her name, but this too shall pass.

I am not terrified today.  I’m horrified, stupefied, mortified by the actions of people that shall remain nameless.  Much as people do not discuss syphilis.  I shan’t discuss them.

Most American’s are far from terrified.

I’m sad and pissed that I’m sad.  

I stopped reading the daily papers. I read it when I think I can stand it.  The news is never good, because good news doesn’t sell.  This is why we are sheltered from all the “little tragedies” occurring around the world.  It doesn’t sell so we don’t report it.  We are so enamored with our self-importance and getting here and there and this doesn’t affect us.  Apathy runs amok.

It doesn’t sell papers or get viewers tuning in.  But this is our fault, we didn’t care. 

Do we now?

I’ve done the world a small favor by writing only what I know very little about.  Had I chosen to write about things I know nothing about trees would be extinct.

My Mind finally wandered off, thank God.  I think it needs help.

I was in retail for a while.  I think this memory popped in because of the crack-head screaming and kicking the car outside my rather shoddy hotel room.  He kicks it and hollers “…you’re gonna be sorry when I’m gone…”.  I had a poor vantage point, but could not see who this rant was aimed at.  But, I was sure this cracked-out individual was incorrect.  

People were always willing to help me out with the free time I had none of.  They’d pile in their car and zip on down to holler at the underpaid manager.  I had developed the concerned look, practicing in mirrors.  I, however, was not concerned.

I wondered if they cared what I was thinking about.  

I was thinking about how it would be nice if they entered the “Think Before You Speak” program and upon graduation immediately stopped thinking.

I wondered if they thought about leaving, as I did.  Just walk off, leave them randomly screaming and go home.  But this would only cause calls to corporate complaining about my faked concern.

These incidences were more common than sense.  The mirror confirmed my suspicions; my concerned face had become my quandary face.

It’s the face I wear most of the time, now.

I’m sorry for all the losses.  Very sorry.  

Shit, my mind just wandered in…and brought a Memory with it.  Hm, I remember it fondly.  As I remember most intimate times spent with females.  

Well, I have been forcing the unthinkable from my mind by using the female form…

Thoughts from a person trying to force horrid thoughts into subconscious:

I know why he brought this vision along, but this might make lack of female companionship a bit trying…

I’m gonna checkout now and enjoy a memory from long before Tuesday.


A FEMALE TANGENT

The female form nears perfection.  No question about it, men are vile ugly creatures.  At least women have beauty to offset they’re human failings, men have no redeeming qualities.

I found myself admiring her pedicure, as her foot swayed back and forth.  She was, however, still talking.  I didn’t know why, she had nothing to say.  Her naked legs crossed my mind.  I knew what was between them.  But, was it worth it?

Sex occurs in the mind and there are those that become more beautiful as they speak.  She was nearest perfection in silence.  Not her fault really.  We’re told what we should think is important: Jobs, money…all the stuff dreams aren’t made of.  So we all talk about it, ad nauseum.

She smelled delicious.  I wondered what she’d taste like?  

She droned on, I don’t know why.  She had long shapely fingers, flamboyant red nails, she moved with grace and her eyes were bright and shiny.  

I wish she hadn’t bought into society’s BS.  She chose not to think for herself, I knew it.  But she was taught that jobs were important and as such she would talk about it…how much she hated it, how long the days were.  

She must have been a talented storyteller, because I felt the long days, I felt her anguish.  But I really wanted to know how she’d taste…

My napkin sat silent, I was thankful for that.  I noticed another voice droning on behind me.  I have to have another drink.  More about jobs and money and bosses and…

Ankles, she had great ankles.  But her skin…shiny, tan, perfect.  I’m sure this’ll get more interesting, it will make sex all that better.  

What is she really thinking?  What does she really care about?  Does she like foot massages?  Is the back of her neck sensitive?

I think she deserves a raise too, no doubt about it.  She’s worth it; at least she says she is.  But people really need to get past the BS and deal with what’s behind the mask, if sex is gonna be any good.  

We’d been out a few times, we’d been close.  I’d gotten her to let go about sex before, but that would be a couple of glasses of wine later.  Now we’re still in the public world, the world anyone can see.  

This is not the world I want to be in.  

It’s crowded, anybody can see it.  I want to know what she really likes and really dreams and what she’d like me to do for her.  And how she likes to be done.  

But, the job is important, society says so.  And on she talks.  I take a drink, hoping she’ll follow suit.  I’d like her in a bit of a haze.  I want the public person to leave now.  I want the secret person.  I want to be the only one that knows her little secrets.

What really makes her spin.  I want to know how to please her, more than that.  I want to make her forget that fucking job and let go.  Let go so much that she’ll be embarrassed in the morning.  

Did I really do that?  What must he think of me?

I think I like her a lot better.  I think I like the person that finally dropped all the public BS and let go.  Trusted.  

But the job is important.

Her eyes are not as bright, she’s coming around.  The guard wanders off.

She needed very little make-up.  I had seen glimpses of who she was, and I liked her a lot.  

But this was the outward side for all she encountered.  But she certainly didn’t look like this for everyone.  I assured myself she had done this for me.  She was going to be herself, I had to be patient and all would be revealed.  

Her perfect ankles and shiny legs and flowing cotton dress weren’t for the public...they're for me.

I faded in and out, never losing focus on her.  She was perfect, or would be.  I thought we should retire to the fireplace and chat.  Less clothes, less between us.  I couldn’t make her job better, but I hoped to make her forget about it…for a bit anyway.

I reached for her dangling ankle.  She continued to talk.  Society had told what was important, but we know what’s really important.  

When I held her ankle and commented on her cute toes, toe-ring and pedicure.  She smiled, embarrassed.  She stopped thinking about what society told her was important.

The rest of the patrons in the busy restaurant disappeared, just us.  No more job.  I held her ankle, commenting on her perfect skin, how other women kill themselves attempting to duplicate what she had naturally.  She didn’t say it, not in words, but it was there.

What are you doing?  Trying to avoid clumsy exploration, not all of it, but some of it that would come.  

When we were alone.  Her face was flushed; I ran my hand over her bare legs.  Perfect.  We’d known each other awhile, we’d talked ourselves blue and it was clear that this was what we wanted.  

But, I wanted to know about her, a little more before being called upon to please her.  And pleasing her was all I could think about; from the moment I woke up that morning.

How does she like to be touched?  Where?  How hard?  I could’ve waited for the clothes to come off, but I’ve found those experiences to be not as rewarding.  This is where it starts, since sex orgasms come from the mind.  I needed to know what was on her mind, how to get inside her.  So, I massaged her foot, looking into her eyes.  

She wanted to say something, I could feel it.

“So…”that’s all I said, I just threw it out there and let it hang.  

“Yes?”

“What are you thinking?”

“About you.”

“What about me?”

“You took the time to do your nails and shave, perfectly.  Why?”

“I’m always perfect.” She giggled.

“Damn close, but what’s on your mind?”

Her sandal fell to the floor, the massage continued.  She took a sip of wine and let out one of those “screw the world” sighs and the world went away.

“What do you like?”

“Like?”

“Massages, kissing?” She was about to blurt out, but not quite yet “Orgasms?”

She laughed, tense, she looked into my eyes.  Wondering if I was serious, I was.

“Candles, mood, shit I don’t know.”

“Well, if you don’t, how the hell am I supposed to?”

“The back of my neck, behind my ears anywhere when I get going.”

“Get going?”

“Yup, get in the mood…tingly all over.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“What, position?”

“Not exactly, what your favorite…part?”

Now she was into it, oral foreplay.  Her foot was back, between my legs.  I obliged her request and massaged away.  Her other sandal hit the floor.  

We both knew we were not alone, but we were in our own little world now (a major improvement from the current world).  

I was learning about her the way no one else would learn about her.  The public person was gone and what we were now, was for each other.  No other person, no other lover would know her the way I would know her.  And hopefully she of me, but this was her time.  

Because women need this time and men eventually blurt out everything about themselves and it really isn’t that interesting.  And women learn all they need to know about men in their first encounter.

I tried to be different.  Because, as I grow older and the women I’m with become wiser, they’ve shared some of their secrets.  It’s odd, they like to share secrets and one thing they shared is that most men don’t ask about them.  That’s good for me.  

But my real strength is that I truly do care about their secrets.  I think that’s what gets them to share.  These women have an almost surprised look when they start to speak their secrets.  But than it flows and it feels good and I feel good.

And who wants to fumble through each other’s body parts when you can learn so much before you’re naked.  For me she was getting naked right here in front of the world and I was the only one that could see it.

“Well, sex, you know…I like it.  But there’s so much more than just you know, doing it.”

I was willing to take a wild guess at deciphering what she just said.  The act of penetration and coitus was pleasurable, but….  but…but she liked all the stuff leading up to it.  And I imagined would like to come prior to engaging in “the act”.

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like, you know, or you should know by now…what’s your favorite?”

“Hmm…I like oral.”

“I don’t mind it.”

“I didn’t mean you to me.”

“Oh…yes, but I don’t…you know, mind…”

“Do you like it?”

“On me?  Yes…a massage, candles, kissing and that…then I really want, you know…”

“It’s my favorite part, you can’t fake it…well, I don’t think you can.  When you’re down there, you can feel it.”

“Feel it?  What?”

“Well, when you come…you can feel it when you’re down there.”

“Really, I always feel selfish…trouble relaxing…you know first time jitters.”

“I can honestly say if I don’t get to do that, it ruins everything.  I like doing “it”, but there’s something about making you happy and being there…(and I’ve left relationships where I wasn’t allowed to do it).”

“You’re not normal (yup).”

“But it’s been bugging me.”

“What?”

“What you want…if I can please you?  If you’ll let me please you?  What you taste like?”

She stepped back into her sandals, ran her fingers over my cheek and headed for the lady’s room.

As time passed, and I’ve grown older and pickier and wiser and dumber.  I love beauty, I love women, I love sex.

But sex has changed, not as much a physical act as it once was.  Where the “act” was all-important.  Sure, there’s a time and place for quickies, but now I’m more discriminating.  The little mental petting we just did was important for me.

If she’d been a prude or closed off, she wasn’t what I wanted.  She still had all that beauty, but sex has become much more mental for me.  Yeah, I was going to start at her toes and work my way around to her neck and her back and her breasts…I appreciate every inch of her.  

But, it was her mind that finished the deal.  The fact that she let go and I knew her differently than anyone else.  Anyone.  

There is no one that would know her as I would.  Others can recall her scent or her shape and her orgasms…but that’s their memory.  And every story, every painting, every book, everything we encounter in life is interpreted differently by us all.  I would remember her my way.

“Let’s go.” She whispered.

There she was, perfect.  We wandered towards my car, she grabbed me around the waist, spun me and kissed me…I remember how wet it was.  I learned a lot from it.

“So, how weird am I”?  I queried.

“Very…and I’m soaked.”

She was delicious.  Her favorite position was on top.  She was very athletic and enjoyed talking late into the night and making love at intervals…all night.  

She liked to instigate, but also liked to be taken.  She was open to new things and liked to engage in foreplay all day, all night…because you never know when it’s time…she loved orgasms…some of her past lovers didn’t give a damn about her orgasms…left her to finish herself.  She’d bought a vibrator, we used it.  

She had dreams, lot’s of them.  

She liked to write and read and she wanted to be a model…but that time had passed.  

She didn’t like her job; she went back to school.  She followed all of society’s rules, but didn’t like them.  

She liked orgasms; I doubt she got to tell a lot of people about that.  But, one of her girlfriends confided, over cocktails, that She had told her about them and me.  Wished I would talk to her husband.  I didn’t, but that’s sad…it’s really so simple and easy and fun.

We’d often giggle about my “problem” with childish outbursts if I was not allowed the chance to pleasure her.  We giggled with her friends.  She delighted in telling them my “problem”.  

She was comfortable with me; she delighted in making them jealous.  My problem was her, finding her as she writhed and moaned.  It was tough to find her.  There were times when foreplay was skipped; the demand for orgasm was made.  Find “it” and get her off.  

Well, they’re small and have a mind of their own.  Sometimes it’s easy, sometimes it’s not.  And when she starts to move and it starts to move, she doesn’t care how hard it is to keep it occupied, she just wants it occupied.  

And that is what I set out to do, but dammit, it can be tough.  She’s moaning or whimpering or grabbing my hair.  Her pelvis is sliding all over the place, it’s dark, her legs are akimbo.

And I’m down there.  She told me she enjoyed it much more knowing I love doing it and being there.  She was really quite easy to please…there are all sorts of variations and I can spend a lot of time warming her up, but it all comes down to finding her and staying with it and massaging a bit just inside her…and then she’s all over the place.  But it’s all worth it, you can feel her warm-up and her lips fill and she’s thrilled and flush and lost.

Her friends fill with envy.  For they had all these jobs they wanted to talk about and there she was talking about orgasms.  It seemed as though they wanted to talk about them, but maybe they didn’t have enough information on the subject.  

After she came, she couldn’t wait to get rolling, she got lost in it and just did whatever she pleased.  She knew that’s exactly what I wanted…she’d ask what I wanted, sure…but she got used to doing whatever she wanted and worried about me later…perfection.  Life is filled with crap; take the enjoyment when it’s offered and even better when her enjoyment was clearly mine…perfection.

She’s married now, got the kids, the job all the things society told her to get…I hope she’s happy.  I wonder what her memories are?

I still know her unlike anyone else…and that will have to do.

Tangents can help pass bad time.

This is a bad time, hopefully IT becomes a rebirth.  

The tragedy returns.  The swooping plane…the perpetrators…the paper…

The World Waits.  

Afghanistan Closes Skies?  How?  But, that’s what it says.

"Three days to turn over one of the perps."  Fat chance.

Holy war?  A Holy War?  Sorry, not buying it.  

No God would condone this behavior.  And Holy Wars are a far too fucking common oxymoron (Common Sense reflects on its popularity trailing Oxymoron’s).

The world is pissing this sad person off.


SUICIDAL UTOPIA

Do it.  What’s stopping you?  I mean, really, what do you have to live for?  Some pet cause?  

We all have’m, what’s yours?  Chances are, it doesn’t matter anyway.  Some sub-species of endangered slug?  Who cares?  I don’t.  Or are you against smoking, drinking and sex?  

Are you one of THOSE people that believe their mores are irreproachable?  Do you really not like sex?  Just because somebody gave it their all to create you and now you’re against it?  

I believe if we took a hard look at what all this sex was creating, we’d give it a little more thought before we engaged in it.  So, we got about 6 billion idiots for our trouble.  6 billion self-absorbed, self-righteous meat-sacks.  Is the world improving as we multiply?  No.  Shouldn’t it?  That means we have more thinkers and stuff, right?  

The next time somebody cuts you off, flips you off, or ticks you off; consider what abstinence could have done for the world.  And with self-imposed abstinence the world would be a better place.  

Taking that a step further, maybe a lot of people should consider suicide.  A self-cleansing if you will.  I for one think free euthanasia clinics would be a bigger hit than Starbucks.  Anyone stupid enough to demand they be given it free, should be given it.  Let natural selection take its course.  

Every time I’m out in public, I notice the majority of people need not be there.  Maybe you’re one of those people needlessly sucking oxygen.  I say, be gone with you.

OK, what are you doing?  I mean really doing?  Would society miss a beat if you were gone?  Are you just here to bring more people like yourself into the world?  Does the world want more people like you, let alone need them?  You might be a perfect candidate for suicide.

Consider it an act of, and for, humanity.  

My guess is you go to work, like billions of others.  You perform some inane duty that could be done by a billion other idiots.  You make kids and let television raise them.  You bitch about everyone else’s bad habits.  You look down on anyone you can look down on and, if necessary, you rip’m new assholes to knock them far enough down so you can look down on them.  

Smokers?  Those bastards.  

I put it to you that if we eliminated all the non-essential humans needlessly converting oxygen to carbon dioxide the world would be infinitely more improved than by just eliminating smokers.

It wouldn’t even be murder or even death, since many people I encounter are synapse free and technically already brain dead.  It’s just that they keep breathing.  I, for one, think they should stop that.

Are you one of those people?  Meandering through life bringing nothing to the party?  Don’t be ashamed, most humans fit the bill.  They start breathing, they fuck, they litter the world with more oxygen suckers and then leave the world to fend for itself.  

I applaud you for taking the time to consider suicide.  It’s probably the first time you’ve actually considered what you can do for humanity.  More people should consider this option.  Do the world a favor and get the hell out of here.  It’s your life, take it!

I smoke, drink and engage in sex.  I’m doing my part to shorten my life and clean up the human cesspool.  What the hell are you doing?  I tell you what you’re doing.  Converting oxygen into carbon dioxide.  

I’m pretty sure the higher power was hoping this simple conversion would enable said life form to fire up his brain, and yet it rarely does.  Most people stumble through life in a stupor and then die.  Why not die now?  Do us a favor.

We could start a list of honors for those that made the ultimate sacrifice for the betterment of the world and used the exit.  We could build shrines and memorials to those that with that one revelation finally found the truth.  “I am not doing the world and good so I’m out of here.  I shall no longer spew drivel or suck oxygen or pollute…I will revert to nature.”

We could throw really gaudy farewell parties.  It’s for a good cause, the rest of us.

Drivel and politically correct bullshit would come to an end.  Why?  Because if the bleeding heart pinheads truly believed all the feces flowing from their synapse free brainpans.  They would come to the conclusion the world would be a better place without them, and in order to prove their devotion to their cause, they’d be forced to act on their convictions and commit suicide, henceforth known as “the grand sacrifice“.  Otherwise they would not be able to purport to truly believe their cause, which of course is a better world.  

The answer is here; all you need do is act.  It’s a simple question: Is the world better with or without me?  Am I doing what I can to make the world a better place?

By now it should be clear.  The self-imposed genetic weeding out is good for the many.  

I don’t know what the answer to this abortion thing is.  But I really think we may be doing them a kindness by not bringing new life into this shit hole.  If I knew this place was such a sewer, I’m not sure I’d have left the womb.  It’s warm and protected, and I was the only idiot there.  Now, I’m surrounded.  

Uh, hey fella, you wanna head down to Earth?  They got assholes and morons and occasionally you get a good-looking woman that isn’t insane and you can have some orgasms.  You used to be able to smoke and drink but now we got all these do-gooders that don’t like that, so we take shit for it.  

We take shit, or are taxed, for everything that’s fun.  I like sex, drinking and smoking.  All things good and pure.  I’m not gonna join a gym to spend countless hours on a treadmill dreaming of sex and drinking and smoking.  Why run away from the truth?  

We’re forced to bumble through our lives pretending that a beautiful woman doesn’t turn us on.  And God forbid we mention how attractive they are.  Do not act on your impulses, go against nature.  Do not tell a woman she’s pretty.  Let women bitch about why men never compliment them…then when we do, it’s harassment.  

So Mr.  Embryo, do you want to go down there?  

I do get some orgasms, no?  

You got hands don’t ya?

I need sensitivity counseling my ass.  The world needs a big-ass booster shot of common sense.


I DON’T KNOW MUCH

That I know to be true.

Honesty is the best policy.  Evidence against said axiom:

I was enjoying the mundane mind-numbing task necessary to produce pieces of paper, which seemed necessary to the people requesting said pieces of paper.

This was an isolated incident to most; it was far too uncommonly isolated to me.

Person hollering.  Shaking.  Verbal accosting in progress.  I had somehow ruined this person’s life.  I was nonplussed.

Maintaining my concerned face was a struggle.  As it is hard to imagine a videotape escaping my store without being rewound.  Furthermore, it was even harder to comprehend how said offending tape had ruined this person’s life. 

I suspected it may have been ruined prior to the tape incident.  The hollering continued.

I took it.  I had to, this life form new that.

Had I spoken the Truth the outcome would’ve been different…

Person hollering, shaking.

I glance at my concern-o-meter.

Excuse me, but I think I should inform you that my level of concern is minimal at best.

The person successfully fights off comprehension.

Uh, I don’t give a shit?

Allowing zero response time I begin to explain.  For this is a saying often used and almost never explained.

Let’s say I had a bag of shit.  Given the choice of continuing my interaction with you or forfeiting the bag of shit.  I’d keep the bag.

Then walk away.

As I said, I took it and at the end I rewarded this person for their inexcusably rude and outright stupid behavior with free movies.  I did not apologize, I thought the verbal tongue-lashing and time I put in was sufficient.

Where would the Truth  have gotten me here? 

Gotta keep that plane out of my head.  Senseless…we need a new word for this tragedy.  Like when “stars” became “superstars” or “megastars”.

I offer “honesty is the best policy” as proof that aliens have visited this planet.

An Alien sat quietly at the quiet ocean inlet.  Earnest Pembrooke IV stumbled along.  He was actually meandering down the beach, but stumbling through life.

The Alien was about to have a close encounter of the Fourth kind with Earnest.

The Alien was on vacation, but his hobby was the search for intelligent life on other planets.  His hobby had nothing to do with Earnest.

Earnest said Hi.  The Alien was an odd shade of green.  Earnest didn’t notice.

Where ya’ from?  Earnest inquired.

Where honesty is the best policy. 

Earnest chuckled.  He thought it was cute.  Not true, but cute. 

Earnest told his friends and…well you get the idea.

Earnest stumbled off.

The Alien returned to his chat with the dolphins. 

We miss most of the important stuff.

Give me a second here while I prove intelligent life exists on other planets.

Do you believe in a God or Higher Power (I know much pondering has been done by the Sane since Tuesday [from now on Tuesday will be that horrific day that will become our Independence Day, unless otherwise specified])?

Is this an omnipotent Being?

So, you believe that omnipotent all-powerful Being would create Humanity as the prime and stellar and wondrous example of its omnipotence?

Uhh…

I’ve been devoid of what used to be normal emotions.  I suppose the combination of sand and airplanes flying over keep reminding me of Tuesday.  Shoveling sand and the roar of jets…no longer bring pleasant thoughts of traveling to sunny beaches, barefoot hand in hand with a wondrous female.

People with money can stop feeling superior and people without it can stop feeling angry at those who have it.  Because we are just humans and money does not a better person make.  As concrete proof I offer the 300 million criminal dollars of the person responsible for the Tuesday massacre.

My drive to the 30 dollar a night hotel I call home, provides me with further proof that many people cannot distinguish between their kitchen table and their car.

Drinking coffee and chatting away on the phone.  It occurs to me; they may become confused when they notice the scenery is passing them by.

I have a feeling several billion lifeforms have been contemplating the existence or lack there of God and of course their own existence.

I’m not religious.  I do my own thing. 

But, I’ve always envisioned God, if there is one, was omnipotent and all-powerful and good.  The Devil took care of the evil doings.  But, this doesn’t work.

God being omnipotent and all knowing would not have created this.  For starters why have a burning ball of gas be the giver of life? 

And only to a rock perfectly positioned to sustain life?  The rest of the universe either sears in its heat or freezes its ass off because it’s too far from the insanely hot burning ball.
 
God may not be perfect.  In fact, if we are created in God’s image than God may be flawed.  The Devil may be a part of God.  Earth may be a microcosm of all that is God. 

God may suffer emotional distress, battle inner demons and when a God searches for an answer, it may create Earth as an experiment.  It may be searching for the meaning of life.  God may not know.

If you consider Earth a single entity, this begins to make sense to a whacked out life form, as I am.  As God struggles we struggle.  Evil exists in God, and he knows not why? 

If this is possible, then is God in its own circle of life?  Does God face Evil from outside sources?  Way beyond me.

But, somehow a flawed God answers many questions and comforts me.

I’m flawed beyond repair; I’m usually surprised when I don’t die. 

But, just a few improvements I’d make if I were omnipotent: Many horrific lifeforms throughout history would not have existed.  Life would not require food, eliminating toilets.  Bathrooms would be for refreshing showers and soothing bathes. 

All deaths would be from “natural causes”.

The separation of monetary and thusly quality of life strata would be less.  We’d be born a bit wiser and self-sufficient.

I’m sure we could all contribute to this list.  But Time won’t allow it, its too busy getting ready to tell us stuff and healing wounds.

The elimination of Evil is impossible.  But if we continue to combat Evil forever we may be able to keep it trapped in it holes with its companion, Misdirected Insane Hatred.

Friends are few and far between…this one is true.  Friends are few and even fewer than you think, is also true.

I just talked to a friend.  Months have passed, friendship has not.  Beware of the future; it contains change with its companion pain.

I enjoyed the re-connection.  I enjoy friends even more now, since Tuesday and trivially turning myself into a migrant worker.

Time has passed since I last visited my computer.  Time does a lot of passing.  It also gives occasional approval to words that it finds pleasingly and poignantly arranged.

Dickens arranged a few words in his day.  Father Time has allowed to pass…

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us…in short, it was a period very like the present…”

Oh, if it were so those words were mine.

“It’s a far, far better thing I do, than I have ever done.  It’s a far, far better rest I go to, than I have ever known.”

It’s the “grand sacrifice”.  The conscious decision to give up his life for a love so deep, yet far beyond his grasp that stands Time’s test.

That fateful day the sacrifice was not conscious, it was forced on the unfortunate by the heartless perpetrators.

I have sent Logic off for a vacation, as it can’t be applied.  We cannot put ourselves in their place, and I’m beyond trying to understand or to care about “why?”.  This is just straightforward business.  It must be done.

I’ve stopped pondering the unthinkable oxymoron “holy war”.  The term exists, because it exists.  People find solace in claiming that they kill in the name of their God.  Bullshit.

No God wants war.  Yet, we are faced with war.  We must take our God, our beliefs, along.   God is not happy about this.  Commandments be true, or not…we KNOW it is not right to kill.

It’s pretty fucking clear that God would rather have his/her name taken in vein and the other idols seem pretty trivial as well.

Religion exists.  But not for war, not now, not ever.

Perpetrators here are nothing more then hate-mongers bastardizing a religion to suit their needs.  Hoping to rally support from other hate-mongers and stir more hate.

This from a land where women are barred from schools and work...by law.  They are in effect prisoners.  Their entire lives sentenced to shit.  Their existences nullified.  They starve if their men leave them.  It’s clear the men care little for the problems of the women.  This just proves more over, that Logic can take an extended vacation.

Today the threat of WW III and total annihilation of our planet rings hollow.  I am nonplussed.  It’s pretty clear the universe would feel about as much pain as a desert losing a grain of sand.

Forgive us, for what we are about to do.

My mind sometimes wanders off.  I’ve pondered the benefits of wet sand vs.  dry sand.  Planes fly over, a lot of DC-3’s and the occasional largest plane in this world from the Boeing plant. 

30,000 jobs will be cut at Boeing, Airlines crumble, hospitality layoffs, economy in a bit of a spin.  The effects of September 11th ripple across the marble.  The effects are not good.

Lest we forget the costs of war…lives, money…insanity.  We American’s have hearts and do not like to do this.  But we must put aside our emotions and make this business.  Pure and simple eradication of Evil. 

That is our current job and as we wage war, we put our house back together and live.  

CIVILIZATION?

I long for the day of Mongol hordes and Alexander.  The Prez could send me over with a 50-caliber machine gun and an endless supply of bullets and Alexander would be known as Alexander the Gone.

Moss grows in the shade.

Their hatred is directed at our perceived wealth and happiness, but instead of striving for their own wealth and happiness, they have embraced hatred.  Deciding to bring the sane into the insane world.  They mistakenly think they have raised themselves from the abyss by raining death. 

The sane will not go quietly into the night.  Worst-case scenario, we take the insane with us and obliterate life.  The unthinkable becomes thinkable and acceptable.

We will not allow civilization to be dragged into their abyss.  Let the Insane unite, it makes it much clearer for the Sane.  Use their hatred against them.  We know what they want, lead them around, give them false hopes and goals.  When they surface, eliminate.

Their hatred makes them blind, their synapse free existence makes them weak.  Time will tell all…

Afghanistan has done the impossible and lost something they said they did not have.

Saudi Arabia today has reversed its decision to allow us to use “it’s” bases.  They are our bases.  We built them.  We buy their fucking oil.  We brought them into the 20th Century.  We teach their doctors.  We saved their ass.  We are the reason they exist.

Logic can stay on vacation.

I wonder if 2+2 still equals 4…


FALSE HORIZON

Today was a somber day.  The date matters not.  We finished our job, we split up.  My boss left for Wyoming and Milwaukee with the rest of the crew.  I’m bound for Reno.  Oddly, I bonded with my Latino Compadres.

Bonded with boss too.  Such is life.  New adventure, new place, new people.  I’ll miss this place not.  But not some of the people.

We wait, we all wait.  America mobilizes, struggles to define Normal and prepares for the worst.  Hopefully the best will follow.

“God Bless America” T-shirts for sale at the supermarket.  Flag waving proudly on the chest of the shirt.

God may not bless us, but I’d appreciate if he’d look away…while we do what we must.

I bought a flag T-shirt (sans “God Bless…”).  I doubt God will bless the forthcoming.

Veins are starting to make appearances in body.  Body is changing through pain. 

Father asked if I had calluses, I said no.  Then looked, I did have calluses…just didn’t notice through the constant complaining S-mails from the rest of my body.

Also noticed blonde hair has replaced brunette on arms and legs…do blondes have more fun?

Greed and Jealousy birthed this Hatred.  The Hatred of September 11th.

It was a…

...false horizon brought this on.

A taught horizon.  We love sunrises and sunsets, these we consider natural.  Natural horizons come and go at will, with or without us.

Taught horizons are brought on.  Money is our horizon.  It’s how we measure success and therefore importance and therefore and so on…it’s false.
At the Rainbow’s end you will find no gold.  Gold is valued by us, the galaxy laughs.  Gold?  A semi-flaccid metal that gleams in light.  And by it’s overabundance of absence grows in its worth.

Unlike Common Sense, Kindness, Warmth, Tenderness, Caring and all their friends.  They could die from loneliness.

Money.  It is necessary, but it begs to be forgiven for its sins.  We created it and we are to blame.  Wealth is not the problem; the poor use of wealth plays a part.  Insanity plays its part as well.

Insane people empowered by wealth and a devil may care attitude for life can change the world.  The world has been forced into a democracy.  The Semi-Sane being the majority and holder of more machines of death (go figure?).

Money does not bring happiness.  It can empower the insane.  It can numb the Normal into comfortability and apetheticity.  It can create delusions of grandeur.

I’m all for wealth, just have a different, skewed, view of how it could be used.

History is told without pain.  We exclude it.  Steven Spielberg brought us close to it in a couple movies, others as well.  Other wise its just the norm…”thousands died, we won”.  Yes there are exceptions, but Alexander’s enemies were unavailable at the time history was writing itself.  And so on.

Wealth has its price.  Sucking up, coddling, hard work and sometimes illegal and murderous activity.

Columbus paid for his voyages with the lives of thousands of native Indians.  The Kennedy’s fortune is rooted in the import of Scotch, established roundabout prohibition (prohibition was a dumb idea, but ol’ Joe played outside the stupid rules and won…or lost depending on how you view the more recent history).

Bill Gates took us on a roller coaster ride of improvements.  This could’ve been done much simpler and less costly to us.  But then he wouldn’t have 37 billion dollars.

The Talibon has graciously offered to try the douche bag.  The same douche bag they said they could not find.

Humph, these are the same pinheads that have bastardized their religion.  Not to mention shoot women for going to school, burn and kill and maim those that speak out against them.  People starving and living in fear and they’re gonna give justice?  Ahhhhh?  No thanks.

This waste of sexual activity has already been convicted for previous bombings and deaths needs no more evidence.  Just listen to him, he convicts himself.  Allah awaits his arrival.

I grow very weary of sharing Earth with these lifeforms, time to send them back to God and let him try and fix their problems…see how he handles their hatred.  Got a feeling they’re gonna spend some time burning and screaming…probably only for eternity.

Off to Reno tomorrow.  What will I find there?  What will the people be like?

The golf course here has been turned over to mother nature.

It occurs to me that I have been lacking female companionship, hm, 2 years.  Not good. 

Not good for a male that knows artists toil in futility creating pictures and sculptures that only scratch the surface of woman.

Not good for a male that feels the need for women but is locked in quandary, because he cannot bring someone along on a trip that odds say will ultimately fail.  And yet I feel success in each word I type (well not all of them, for many I have banished for being shitty).

The scent of a woman: I barely recall.  Conversation, peeling away the social BS and getting inside the person.  I used to be good at it.  Now???

Holding, being held.  It’s been awhile.

Something meaningful, as pleasure should always be and seldom is.  I will not overlook this.  Pleasure is extremely lacking, extremely needed.

Encounters with females are usually pleasurable.  Usually.  Prior to 30 were frequent, began writing and became less frequent, yet more intense.  Even though intense encounters did occur.  Hindsight being what it is there is time to reconsider some of my fuck-ups.  A few of the women I let or forced to get away.  I am far from perfect, far.

I was very fortunate with females, for a fuck-up.  I miss a few of them, the ones that touched my heart.  That opened them, let me see them.  See their dreams and truths and unsociety based ideas.  Their lives, or how they hoped they’d be.  I hope they are all well and as happy as this world allows.

I’ve been fortunate.  Quality humans…smiles lighting up rooms, for me.  Who would’ve thought?

I miss them…

It’s Sunday, the day for talking heads to speculate on subjects ad nauseum.  I admit to listening, not often, but today.  War and death are speculated.  I need not speculation, time to act, time to cleanse, time for war.  Time to search for Normal.

Israel feels like Czechoslovakia in 1938…Excuse me, you exist only because of us.  And will continue to exist as long as we do.  If we fall, you fall.  Shut-up and wait.  For the world is changing.  Do not bore us with your petty differences when we have proven, PROVEN with action that we stand with Israel.

We have also proven we stand with Muslims, proven with our own lives and military actions.  And now they wonder where we stand and balk and talk.  You are either in or out.  Shut up and get with the program.  We have proven ourselves and talk is cheap.  Actions, our actions speak for themselves.  Look at our actions and shut-up.

We have bailed the world out on numerous, overly numerous occasions and all we get is kicked.  Shut-up.

We do not look at religion when we bail.  We are guilty of economic eye turning, but hopefully this will change.  But our lives are given for reasons we do not know, we give and bail and the world scoffs.  Shut-up.

Actions, we need actions.  Get in or get out.

No wonder I can barely handle the news.  It’s all about BS and pain and death.  Rare is the heart-warming story.  If it bleeds it leads.  Fuck it, change it.

We need more up stories; the problem is WE don’t tune in for happiness so they don’t give us happiness.

Tune in to happiness…

Hours, they say within hours we attack terror.  Terror?  Fuck’m, I'm not terrified, I’m horrified.  We attack horror.  I speak his name not.  He exists, yet I will not type his name, because that’s what he wants, I will not do as he wants.

He wants Islam to unite.  He wants the Insane to unite.  Fine, send them back to God.  He fucked up.  If this is the end, so be it.  It is nothing more than a new beginning.  Fuck’m.  Sorry about the profanity, but this is a profane time.  Emotions run high; logic and common sense just run.

Unite, please, it gives us a clear opposition.  Sane vs.  Insane.  Dance, go ahead and dance.  For it is your time.

I hope God, if there is God, is playing cards or creating new worlds.  At best not watching us.


MORE BULLSHIT

The Emmy’s run tonight.  Somber, but needed.  Trivial and important.  Canceled again.

War has begun.  Peril haunts us all, but it haunts the Insane more as of today.  The Insane die…I am touched.  I mourn, I know not why.

10 AM PST…war…death…sacrifice…GW does good…America does good.  A living oxymoron, death is good….  God looks away…Allah awaits…

Today, India and Pakistan decided to kill a few of each other.  The Middle East is a tinderbox.  No reason to belabor the point, more will certainly come.

Work has become mundane, physical labor hurts no more.  I decide to recall some pleasant memories to pass the time with my shovel.

I feel very lucky to be able to recall these memories.  I pick one of my favorites, but another temporarily interrupts it.

Both are blondes, although it was obvious that one was a redhead, but she wanted to be called a blonde, so be it.

It was her that requested the list.  I knew this was a bad idea and told her so.  She insisted for what seemed like eternity, but was probably closer to 45 minutes.  I warned he.  She told me she’d give me her list, I didn’t want it.

Silly list. 

I grabbed a pen and notebook.  Began writing names.  This is what she wanted, so she said.  Although the constipated look on her face told the truth.  I continued writing until somewhere around the 80th name she ripped the notebook away.

The list contained some people she knew, acquaintances, women we still hung out with.  I knew she didn’t want the list.  I informed her I wasn’t done; she assured me I was.

She blurted out a few of the names.  I asked is she’d like any more information.  She declined and told me I should’ve known to lie.  I informed her she should tell me when she wants a lie.

She tossed the list on the counter a few different times.  You were with her?  Yes…

She didn’t want the list.  I knew that.  But I took the only way out and apologized, this she took to be sarcasm.  Well, maybe it was.

Remember what we know about the truth…it shall set you free…it eventually did.  Coupled with help from me…a few too many late nights, a few too many cocktails.  She moved out.

I missed her company, but it was better this way.  She’s one of my best friends today and is happily married with a beautiful kid. 

All in all, a good decision on her part.  I have often wanted to leave me.

OK, that memory played out.

Now back to the “other” blonde.  I love women. I love the memories and hope to create a few more.

At a certain point you can only tie.  Race, hair color, eye color…matter not.  Some women are pinnacles.  Arguing about it is pointless.  You can only tie.  She was one of those women.

She sent me a pictured she’d taken, I loved that picture, it said so much about her.  This picture was her, taken by her, lying on a beach, wearing just oil.  Her curves, glistening skin, cute toes and the ocean for backdrop.  This was art.

I felt honored when she smiled at me.  I loved her standoffish aloof demeanor to the oglers.  She liked being ogled, hell I ogled.  At this time in our lives we were here for each other, lucky me.  A Grace Kelly beauty, a dreamer, here for me.

I know not a lot, about her now.  I hope she’s happy.  I know that she didn’t achieve some of her dreams.  But in this world that’s normal, we change our dreams when it becomes apparent we will never achieve them and grow weary of exercising futility.  Still she was so bright and shiny and full of life…I wish her well.

I wish all of my female companions well and in hindsight; congratulate them on their decision to move on. 

It’s been a long haul, and the haul needed to be done alone.  With interludes of companionship, followed by long periods of solitude.

This woman, like most of the women I sought out loved to dream.  She loved that I loved to dream and admit my dreams and goals.  I miss her, them.

Perfection what is thy name?

Decorum won’t allow me to speak it.

I listened to a couple married guys sniping.  I know a lot of lonely married people.  They just share their loneliness with another lonely person…for the rest of their lives.  Or until they break their vows.

I have been searching for all these single people that love to take long walks.  I estimate that several million people say they like to take long walks, where the hell are they all and what’s with all this walking? 

I don’t particularly like long walks.  I’ve taken many.  But I’m usually dragging clubs and bashing little white balls.  I was usually bitching the entire time or saying, “did anyone see that?”.

Judging by all the profiles of singles I’ve read, I’m an extremely flawed individual.  More flawed than I had previously suspected.  Also, these profiles appear to be from females that have achieved some higher consciousness.  This goes against my 38-year study, having encountered untold masses and mostly unconsciousness.

As this book writes itself, I know I miss females, not all females.  Some drove me insane; one kicked me, knocking my nuts for a loop.  I don’t miss her.  But being a consummate smart-ass has comes with a price.  I’m still paying.

ATT sent me some mail.  It appears we are a people separated by a common language.  I grow weary of them.  I can’t get through to them.  They say their plans exist for our convenience, I say that’s BS.

I made an international call…got the bill…thought about suicide…190 dollars for one call, three dollars a minute.  I attempted to invoke sense, was denied.  Was told I needed to call ATT before I made the call…hmm.  Madame Cleo I’m not. 

How was I to know this?  You just do.  Ah, an innate talent, yes.  Born with it.  I informed them I was a 20-year customer.  They were nonplussed.

On about my fourth call to them…after being told to call back next Tuesday when they weren’t so busy.  ATT?  Phones do play a part in their business, no?

OK, so they read out of a book and you are not allowed to talk with people that don’t read out of the book. 

Well, it is a month after the World changed; I’m not sensing a lot of kindness or sense.

I informed the last guy I chatted with that they should’ve called me to set up a payment plan.  How would he know that?  You just do.

3 bucks a minute…regular rate 17 cents…rip-off.

Can we payment arrangements?  No, my offer is nothing and since you tampered with my credit and caused me harm, my offer is less than nothing.

Some big corporations are too big

I don’t know why it picked today to return.  I push it back into the darkness, but today its out and I’ll see if writing about it does any good…


FUCKING MINORS WHISPER

Christmas was nice for a change.  Christmas had been finding me unemployed, depressed and confused.  The year in question is unimportant, several have passed since.  New Years was upon us.  Maybe this year would be celebratory.

I had a bright shiny staff of teenagers.  Wonderful customer service group, all smiles and goofiness.  I paid them as much as the little sum our corporation allowed and treated them with respect and in return they seemed to kind of bond with me.

It made the fact that this job was easy, trivial and low paying tolerable.

My boss met me in the store that day.  Not unusual, since he liked our store and we had just won some silly contest that made him look good.

Today he closed the door to the office, this was unusual.  I twinged a bit.

“For the past couple days I’ve HAD to investigate some allegations.  Before you get all worried they’ve proven false, but they’re continuing to come in.

The next sentence I didn’t expect, who could expect to have their soul bitch-slapped into a new reality?

“An employee has made some statements regarding fellow employees…(I’m not even gonna fucking write the allegations, let your mind wander and it will find them)…so far I’ve had to talk with three of your employees, they all are behind you.

Are their parents involved?

Some. 

My soul wept.  A person such as I, who has endured a flawed brain and low pay and shit for his writing, doesn’t have much.  This was stealing what I had. 

Cut to the quick, I bled.

He was behind me; the staff was behind me.  My career was behind me.  I held out for 10 fucking days, the attacks continued.  My boss informed me of the attacks and who was now involved and to a person they defended me.  Stunned, they walked on eggshells.

My world crumbled.  Sleep, when it came, was not pleasant.  This sleep could only be induced by alcohol.  The alcohol pushed the sadness and pain out of reality.  I was getting weaker daily.  Tears found their way to the surface.

The accusations continued, her parents said they believed her.  Oddly, she didn’t accuse me with her involved…always others.  She was searching for an accomplice and found anger in her co-workers…she was transferred to another store, but not done.

All this for a fucking cigarette.  The job, I could survive that.  My boss offered a transfer, but we agreed this had fucked me.  This 17-year-old girl had fucked me, more than she knows.  I am forever changed, the depression was deeper than I had known.  Coping was a bitch, so was she.

I broke on day ten…my boss understood.  He complimented me for hanging in there.  I said a tearful goodbye, some others cried.  Some called me later crying…

All this for a cigarette, smoked in the store bathroom.  This poor girl destroyed me for it.  Afraid that I’d tell her parents, she decided to get rid of me…she did.

Part of me died with it.  My soul bears the scar to prove it.  She knew not the awful truth.

Innocence ran for cover, it returned lessened.

If we are to lay bare our thoughts, truth be told: I did find them attractive.  It would’ve been abnormal not to.  They were goofy and beautiful and un-scathed by the world. 

For most it was their first job.  They didn’t know the insane political correct rules, they trusted me.  They had every reason to.  I treated them as equals.  For this they’d blurt out all sorts of things.

First sexual experiences, boy problems, possible pregnancies, combining alcohol and marijuana and car crashes…I operated as a surrogate father…helping when I could, telling them I could not be involved in this or that…

This was not new to me…my personality seems to bring this on.  I love openness and the world shuts it out, cuts it off.

But the naturalness of finding them attractive was far from acting.

How far would honesty have gotten me?

A good deed never goes unpunished.

I was forever changed.  Broken.