There was a bobcat crossing the dirt road. It was scurrying. It had a wounded paw.
It was beautiful.It was the first bobcat I have seen in real life outside of any
shackles or bars, judging to say that if from it's perspective it did not think of
the 'growing' world around it was not intrusive. It handles it as it can,
It's paw will heal.
Im a human with a face.
This face contains a nose, with nose holes
and a mouth and eyebrows
with eyes underneath the eyebrows
Don't let me convince you that you think
I'm fooling you
Ricky was killed by a peace symbol.
It was some '8 feet wide'
and fell from some '22.5 feet high'
It fell from a store sign
it was one of those large letters
apparently it was put up unprofessionaly.
but Ricky was killed by it,
In a story at least...
I have to space myself away
Ive been wondering lately,
as for authoring works
when in a very fast paced and attention
deficate paced world
when writing references to the past
and trying to write in ways where you would have to
read through twice or more to find different ways of
story lines and such,
do you write more for your own benefit to challenge yourself
or for the people who may read it.. but is there enough time
to appreciate that sort of thing in a schedule-burden world?
Thing is, it seems to be about moving items.
Move it moveit move it, space it and replace it.
Which leads to things, yes, moving rather quickly,
but then washing away because there may not be any actual weight to it.
Weight can be insight, something like a heavy iron that can maintain itself
among the quick currents. Sort of like a cinder or stone that doesnt
flood away along the quick currents and stream of trends or politics
or hot subjects that the mind needs to feed off of, get sick of
and immediately replace.
That's what I wonder, though, is 'Is there the time to fully appreciate
something that makes you re-think the status of character, of self of...'
That might speak enough, bluntly, of being able to dig in to observing
situations of capability or refreshing a viewpoint: to think of
survival anxiety as a means of squashing the approach to re-evaluate
while instead the idea of 'evolving' offers easier and more reliable
wireless signals meanwhile peace symbols are falling and crushing poor
doomed Rickies.
More simply: Less time squeezing through tight and painful hoops offers
more moment to look at your own understanding of the world,
how it was developed, and in what ways you can change it to appreciate it more
(and drive your self in sane.)
And Ricky is just some sardonic character reference remembered not as a
main driving force but a passing memory within a story.
This point drives hard in to my 'reactionary' mode because the irony of
symbolic peacehood rings my head like a fucking gong when it is marketed.
Peace is cool, no matter how many people you have to kill or shove out of the
way to get a color that matches your style.
It seems so outright and visible to me that peace shower curtains and bars of chemical soap
and kids panties and father wallets emblazed with the emblem does things to
the way I see the world. **
It's not my world, but it's my brain.. and my brain is
the reenactment of the world through the way I see it.
If I could see it as my world then that would be true, too,
but in other's minds, it seems, there are other people
very busy and infatuated with owning the world
so they can't. Do they own their own mind
if convinced of others capable of that
or was the world just being rented
under some phony document.
The answer is yenso
**Two of these things are (1)
The aroma of the relation to the symbol still stinks.. it still has that
smell of justification and peace but it seems more as an artificial flavor.
If I see it all to be an act of satirical broadway/an art expression of
absurdity it truly makes more sense that way.. and I was just not getting the
joke. How foolishly silly of me! How embarassing. To be reactive and effected
in stressful ways at something that was a joke I did not catch on to.
To produce products with a symbol in which the symbol,
supposedly,
represents a form completely opposite to the structure and it's ways of ethics
to create rather widgety and needless supplies.
Thus biding people's time and energy to create and consume these products
where time and energy could face a way of developing peaceful ideas.
Whatever peace means. Peace of mind? Peace of solitary? Peace of
others, by any means, being put forth and forcefed your very own
condition and interpretation of peace?
(2) An image will maintain it's same shape, structure... the same contours...
The shape and emblem does not change but the energy of the message and
meaning will change. At that point I currently see the message of the symbol
as something clouded, confused and morphed.
One persons idea of peace could be as different as the idea of what it means
to be revolutionary. (Revolting? Stinky?)
In one age it may mean having revolutionary (Stinky?) Ideas,
in another it may apply to the clothing.
If application or relation to the mindset is carried out through the
adaptions of what we consider it to mean,
wouldnt somebody with challenging ideas who does not appear
in dress or par to the 'style revolution' be an undercover revolutionary?
Or blanketed as a dupe.
So much grazes with the sight or image of things that the ideas behind them
or the compassion or integrity almost seems second-hand (when it is the
showmanship or stage-tricks that catch the eye and not the mind.)
This is directly to the point of a symbol being concrete yet it's ideas able
to rebirth and adopt.
If there really is or is not a problem with this, may we at least welcome the
symbol to stay and remain but shed away it's older expectations as being some
sort of bringer of love. Instead reflect the symbol as a gathering force to all
of the happy jingles and whistling business folk associated with another rip off
product.
---------
Theres a mouse in a trap in the kitchen silverwear drawer.
I feel disgusted with myself. I wasnt even the one to lay the trap out but as soon as it went off..
I was out on the porch in the dew unreleasing the mouse trap.
The eyes were glazed with some horror and its innards near its legs were outside of itself.
If there was any moment of sorrow...
..well it's strange how I protect the spiders and make sure the spiders are okay who in turn devour the bugs.. but when the click ocurs and it's meat and flesh under a heavy weight of restrainment you can only wonder of the feeling of your own hind limbs being under the jarring pressure.
Maybe the effect is the same but being psychological creatures we more often instead feel that snapping of attack and squeezing at the mind than rather at the limbs.
This is to say that the weights of invasion come not from the threat of enormous spider legs straddling your waist or the jaws of a metal lock ripping down but instead it is the ink on a payment slip reducing a flesh being to a psychological terror
or it could be the infectuous contract of a liability deal signed with the trade of human energy and mental worry for the loaned methods of survival.
It was said that we fight our battles just as often with the signing of papers as we fight physical warfare. This statement may vary depending on the country, how many armed weapons it maintans and how many people are willing to use them. As people gain or lose sensitivity or if compassion to other living beings grows or evaporates it is always those who feel a need not to physically combat without great reason to instead wager a battle, instead, mentally. Energy is energy and time to study and recognize individual strength deters from a stance of being able to manipulate. Also abiding to those papers or unquestioned acts of living with-out the association of birth certificate or state mind makes me ask: Are the feelings of mental excrutiation not as vital to heal as the physical flesh being attacked?
A thing about human beings is our ability to look and think about ourselves on the food chain. And to be so sure about our conclusions that even when we find evidence to disrupt them, it is easier by pattern to stick to the older programs rather than the fate of moving on where old ideas become extinct. We have a grip on a sand castle infastructure thinking the beach is a universe when the world is a world. There are giant wet shaking beach dogs and tidal waves. The eight armed octopuss man is strange and different and while not threatening it is strange and different so kill the bloody savage before we may begin to internalize double-quad limbs as a new rationale. Perhaps the fear of being a part of the old model. Then again who wants to be obsolete or wade in old-ideas..
The threat of internalizing new information: We (seem to) wait for enough rebels or innovators or martyrs to reap the blood and pain from accepting a new idea before it is safe to move to it en masse (where it seems to then serve it's time before it is again, misplaced on the food chain of ideas.. like the food chain of animals.)
Considering the massive amounts of species gone extinct leads me to fool with the thought of element-specific animals. For whichever element available there will be species to adapt to that kind of surrounding. Where will there be need for space of land creature if the entirety of a globe is under-water?
The world is really a rhombus and have you ever been in a space shuttle? The states really have no names we really just name them names, and mexico and america are the same thing: A thing. If this sounds trying to your fate of maps then take your pointer finger and bash-poke it against the front of your nose. Does it still feel like a thing? Try it again, harder. Is it a thing yet?
Take cultures: We can invite or ensnare any culture or race.. or any race will be taken over and perhaps learn to become ideal to those surroundings.. It's a simple and obvious statement I guess but it reminds me of one giant mouth eating the ways of old practice, and swallowing a certain kind of mind's thinking and then expelling a madeover and assimilated vending of ideal.
I admit possibility of being in error for that statement and instead would correct it by calling it Progress.
One culture is water another culture can act as fire. If the fire can be flooded out then any survivors of the way of flame or warmth will seem to have to adapt the ability to swim;or drown in obscurity. Or find floaties and float in them for really quite a very long time.
The above was written on the mole of rebecca the general assistant vice manager of Hoyta-Hutt insurance. I was projecting as a danish on her paper plate and was able to zoom in on it to relay the message plot.
It also said "Danger Will Snobinson the blood marks of wore vetreigns grow lost as the era loses now homeless heros. Great sales on wind scarves will be held on auctions to residual hams."
I'm not keen to those last words on the mole but I figured I would share them,too, so nobody thinks I am making any of this up.
Elvis fell on his Pelvis and broke his grandmother's back.
Inspiration can be contageous. and Empathy can be a way of really learning
about the ways of human energy spilling and splish splashing from one
person to another. Yet placing a cap on empathy can some times be healthy
at times because while understanding and reflecting somebody elses
current state if it is a set of two sinking ships or people in a
downed state, somebody has to take the wheel and lead empathic reactions
to an intoxification that is drunk on hope, clarity and two potato bags of starlight.
Like all Rickies, Ricky was no good.. hadn't amounted to documentation of tax forms
and surely hadnt missed the dodging of falling peace sigils plummeting with the likened luck of
a couple struck by storm or a dorm rat undrunken or a tea kettle that ceases to scream when
it's hot and ready.
(A tea-kettle that does not scream lacks orgasm.)
"Nobody knows what they're talking about,\
Especially me
and I'm quite certain of this!"
-Espi Onage
There is war and famine and suffering going on but I have something important to talk of.
As I read this box of soy milk, with it's dedicated lecture of history and promise it says:
"It's the highest quality soymilk you can buy!
You've tried the others, now taste the best!"
Now, do you see anything wrong here?
No?
Try again: I never tried the others..
This was the first kind of soymilk I had ever tried
and I have been drinking it since...
but now I realized that the box is telling me, or assuming
that I have had other kinds of soy milk to compare it to.
This does something to me... quite a lot of things, actually..
but most importantly, and unfortunate,
It tells me that this soy milk does not know me as well as I initially thought it did.
How much trust can be developed in continuing such a life with this soy milk that
allows and even prints into physicality the words of a bold-faced-liar?
If it lies to me about that then maybe I am lying to myself about my
satisfaction of nourishing myself with this.
Frankly, I have no other choice than to try the others.
And if I dislike them and return to this soy milk,
and go to read it's literature,
it may for once be telling me the truth.
