My seemingly meaningful discoveries are often not much more than realization that I’ve been asleep at the wheel, and it “feels better” if I can make it sound like something “new” happened. Freshness is always better than staleness for most of us. At some point those things that seem like they’ll never have anything “new” in them may as well go by the wayside, so we do not have to “immediately remember” them. We might not ever completely forget those discards, but at least they are not “nagging at us” with their mere presence anymore. And they don’t take up any space, any room, in our surrounding domains, so it makes the whole scene a whole lot more clean to de-trash it.
We did that at Sequent, every day at the end. Jerry and I usually were the only ones left if Marv had headed out already, and we’d de-trash the workfloor. Out on the floor we were, de-trashing the environment, and also as we talked we probably trashed some of our non-present fellow employees in ways they’d have not appreciated had they known. We might have talked about Danny and his drinking, or Charlie and his odor, or anything else, but you have seen your own scenes, so you know what I mean, or something similar. We had to talk about something and the way “those other people” were buggin’ us was what was on our totally bugged minds. For all we know, the area was mined with bugs so that they (nazi executive suits there — nest) could bust us later.
Good thing they went out of business with their venture capital. So much for creating wealth (previously awarded when company was not in the red like at the end when it bled) or they’d sue me for smearing their reputation.
What is it with companies, corporations, firms, and these conglomerate entities that gives them a personality, all schizoid-paranoid, and ugly to boot? Why? Do they really want to fail?
You know, it seems like maybe we should start a new organization for those few, rare, and priceless True Believers (TB)™ whom I only suspect I can detect and then “infect” with this common awareness we share. If we already “know what we know” then I actually never have to explain it. I just wait for my mate to wake up and realize we are part of whatever whole thing does not cut itself out of the picture.
And we have an excellent guide. Unlike other things, it has a sort of instruction manual, but it’s difficult to understand. Almost as if it had been written by someone who did not really understand English the way we do. That (of course) is ridiculous since God wrote it and knew that we could faultlessly translate and re-explain it without ever making one single serious mistake and acting as if we hadn’t.
That would be bad, wouldn’t it? To claim to be “perfect” at dispensing bible wisdom and then to make a whole lot of “filthy lucre” with it which of course again would be absurd if God had said “go for it boy!” during that private revelation inside the mind or soul of a perfect person. You know who I mean, don’t you. If not, maybe I’ll post about him. I call him “PRick” simply because he seems like one, to me. Overbearing, overly proud, slightly obese from all that fat life, swollen tongue dripping with silvery expressions of mostly regurgitated scriptures (with memorized address so we know it’s genuine Word) and just the perfect fleshy package of “we need a KING” that has been being cried by God’s people and everyone else too since we first figured out we could do that. (shout to the heavens in demand for things) There were not as many of us then so the loudness was probably not what you’d really call volume by today’s standards. You might say they did not yet have any decibels to use, so it was not an issue. (wow, what a sound!)
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geez, or jeez, did I forget my “purpose” here?! My ex-wife (Kelly) just came by unexpectedly, and I can honestly say this is one of those things where you would not have expected to get an extra “treat” or “nice thing” during the day when some things just do not seem to go right no matter what I do. But I saw her again. I know I have something special when the one woman in the world that I probably “should really hate for what she did to me” is really someone that I do not ever want to stop seeing from time to time, and helping in small ways if I can just so she knows I did not “not love” her like she thought. I know it shouldn’t matter to me what she thinks, but for some reason, I wish I could un-break her heart back there along the road where I was breaking it every day without noticing.
I would not forgive me, if I were anyone else, either, yet apparently she has. She is not afraid of me, she does not “jump” if I have the wrong tone in my voice and she thinks I’m really gonna “let her have it now” and she doesn’t want it. You are not supposed to “give” people things they do not want. She taught me that, while suffering my insistence that she needed to “stop thinking that way and listen to me” if she did not want to.
I could never walk away when I was supposed to. I kept talking instead of comforting her (even starting to comfort her would have been a big step up) back when we had her fights. I forgot about that really obviously sad fact: when she was fighting me, she probably thought she had only God on her side, but it “wasn’t working” for some reason.
I forced her to doubt everything. Eventually, she will lose those last lingering bits (they might be more like big ice chunks) and we will be all fine again, only separately, like we once swore we’d never be happy if it happened like this. Our hearts were both lying, I guess.
So it really is non-blamed on us. Or equally. Sigh, and it’s over, too.
But life goes on with all kinds of reminders that I did the best I could, and others are having trouble doing that “very same thing” in many different ways.
That was it. Answer: Kelly is my wonderful, beautiful ex-wife (whom God still loves), and I really love her, forever, but not like how it was at first, which always seems sad. Now, what’s next? Hmmm… probably just a lot of “whatever” and then sleep.
Of course the parade just got rained on, but it is “a stranger out there” so I “should not” feel so sadly so suddenly. The keyboard gets wet when this happens. An 8-year old boy was killed on his bicycle today up at 153rd and Division (I could drive there if I wanted to burn fossils) so he does not get to grow up now, I am almost certain their is a woman who is devastated through the heart deeply, possibly there is a man who feels the same thing in his very flesh.
My heart is bleeding again, right all over my eyeballs.
God damnWhat is to become of those stupid drivers who did not save this kid in time? I hope they like being stuck in their automobiles forever, burning in the lake, in the next world, if bad deeds really do not go unpunished forever, which they don’t. Those who point out that we cannot prove what will happen after we die will not mind me “picturing” what they look like in that unproven part of themselves. Since they are confident, they won’t even object if I attempt to “read their fortunes” for them.got a little heated up there, no doubt. he was only 7 but that is not why i have cooled off somewhat
I remember what Red Sonja said: “I will read your fortune in your entrails.” Again I may have been lazy and figured I’ve gotten that right when I didn’t but it means the essentially same thing: they’ll be “discovering” they will be facing that spiritual anatomical corrections officer someday, maybe sooner than even I suspect with my BLIND eye to the sky. Sounds just like my kind of bag there! Not my scrotum, of course, we must step out of my anatomy now, and use my bag of tricky sayings, my bots. We can make them on the fly, too. Not the insect, the condition of buzy-ness!