April 19, 2016 Leave a annotate

“Feed Your Head” – White Rabbit – Jefferson Airplane

Another Christmas in Pleasantville; this makes three. Winking goodnight to a benevolent day I caress my beloved typer this dusk feeling no pain and high considered in the state of a monkey from the contents of ~y industrial size bottle of codeine laid attached me via the local Nazi pharmacist; compliments of my enlightened doctor. Despite the information that this was Howard Hughes’s unsalable article of choice, and look how that turned thoroughly, my body, vibrating pleasure from one more two-hour workout, (one pound in a less degree than the super middle weight limit and reminiscent of Michelangelo’s Adonis), I’m sensation good and feeling good is dexterous enough.

My Uncle Sam made expert as well today; sending my guaranteed reward for decades of white-collar mean contribution direct to my vault at Wells Fargo by a dependability I have come to be surprised at. These events have rendered both my central nature and my psyche serene; and however impending doom surrounds an imminent survey from my mirror/shadow (son) and the alarm this will result in my allow looming Damocles sword, Jim Croce “cats the cradle” essential circumstance; I expect and accept the yin-yang balancing yoga.

Of rather less concern but annoying as a toothache comes the anxious my intellect is turning to mush from negligence caused by a lack of stimulating familiar discourse; an absence of dreamscape narrative shared by mates and like-minded seekers. I’m used to the interaction of happily cluttered minds that populate the Bermuda Triangle of diversity, acknowledgment and tolerance; Berkeley, Oakland and San Francisco; in what place cerebral glitterati misfits from around the orb filter in and congregate like gold nuggets rushing to swirl and collect like water in a bathtub empty.

I left half a dozen magicians astern in that utopia when I rent; seekers all, with minds embedded in a hop about of colliding ideas; sage who crave the question despite knowing the answer; who speak in double helix of metaphors and allusions; apprehension a straight question about how ya’ doin’ and answering through the uniqueness of a Grateful Dead distance jam drum solo and the surreal weak print detail of a rental car agreement.

Here the colloquy is parochial and pedestrian. The carpenter came a knocking yesterday to simulation me his hat; apparently he had noticed I gain a penchant for hats, better to shield my shaved pate and keep rich. It was a beauty and he infallible was proud of that hat; a Stetson of cowboy appearance, the kind you could drop a brick attached and not leave a dent, the multiplicity that takes a couple of years of quotidian wearing to break in and, granting that once contoured to the owners topic were to find itself taken, would rise in a duel.

I feigned authority since I didn’t want to subsist cruel or rude; he was stagnant in my living room after entirely, so I went along. But there’s a half-life of about four minutes of serviceable details to discuss surrounding one’s fit with a ~ cover. I’m not an elitist. My father was simple folk; had that threadbare man touch and I inherited it; finding more comfort and enjoyment with that ilk than those who went to Goddard.

Yet I’m missing the eclectic mix of eccentric minds that made my west coast family unique, exciting and fascinating. Big Pauli; adept, brainiac hustler, ladies man and gayety factory, who can be found in his self-made embarrassment heroically punching his way out of a wall-~ bag each day, advised me to try to get out the local writer’s community for comradeship and common ground. But I attain to too much of the Silvia Plath syndrome in those turn in that direction. Besides I set down. to the Groucho Marks dictum of dispose connections, who when invited to join the Friars form a ~, sent a telegram stating: “I don’t indigence to belong to any club that have a mind accept people like me as a member”.

I miss the pulsing zeal of that quixotic tribe of misfits going 200 miles some hour with their hair on impetuosity; burning naked on the razors rim of possibility who could rescue me from myself; lifting and transporting me by sharing the joy and angst of the worlds of wonders they be in actual possession of swimming around in their minds.

Peter the Great; common ancestry brother and clan titan Prometheus of choice living solutions and Lancelot to my Galahad. Lisa, my Muse, all heart and soul living and loving on that angelic Treasure Island; one aptly named home for the accumulated riches that is her, a bursting supernova of unstained light energy sharing her vivid and honest experiences, construction me wish I were as noted as she sees me; sharing by me her communiqué’s of experiments in life, god of ~ and psycho–pharmacology.

Roy Bones; Consigliere’ and business vagabond wanderer, above it all, walking betwixt the rain drops, back from the deep, stalking, waiting, searching and wondering. I’m absent also Portia; my opposite, kryptonite and pseudo-sibling life kind companion; Liz Taylor to my Richard Burton, sharing our field and acting out our Shakespearean dramas from Camelot to The Grapes of Wrath.

From that choice family house, now sold, I traveled a slack way looking for my roots, because something concrete in this life, tired of roaming on all sides aimlessly, the distance done, the possibilities in addition many, to find something firm to build the future upon, another spot through warmth and love and togetherness. I allowance high and hopeful, outside that ardent familial environment to this one, however again immediately confronted with the penury to be free and the emergency for something bigger, more meaningful.

The inspect for a home becomes a deeper probe, for truth and meaning in being, the same thing millions search towards. But it is impossible to subsist certain of it, so it’s eternally an illusion to some degree. Through the remoteness we hold hope in finding all-reaching truths which even a prophet couldn’t bestow us, as it is our labor to search for our own verity.

Perhaps Lisa’s advice is prescient. We find our truth in the seemliness of each others souls, looking into and not at reaped ground other and we come to a question where the only thing that’s certain is love and that seems to bestow us enough meaning in life. We don’t necessity to have anything more concrete or any absolute philosophy or religion. Love in its truth is better and greater than anything.

SoCal Steam Clean, the trial involves employing their environmentally safe products using rank, low-moisture devices that translates into a efficient steam which permits carpets to nimbly dry.

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