Thursday,
There's a glitch in the Matrix. I felt its sting yesterday. A sort of snapping sound like a winter branch breaking. A crunchy, unpleasant sound. I don't know who he is, this thing that lives inside me, dwells in some dark, quite place inside me. A secret me that now and then raises his voice, demands to be heard. And man, does its voice carry an impact. So loud, so strident it is that everybody can hear. Every person around me can hear him speaking in my voice, and of course, everybody believes that this foreign voice is me. Why shouldn't they? His toxic sounds are vomiting from my mouth, using my words in such a way all my friends think he's me. And though I'd like to tell them different, "
No, no, that's not ME talking like an insane idiot, that's HIM, not ME," they know as I know . . . WE two are the same person, the same alien, the same stranger that has always haunted this flesh. This flesh. This breathy life, this sand wet with age.
Saturday, March o5, 2o16
The trees are beginning to bloom . . . do trees bloom? I don't know. How can I write about anything if I don't know about trees, or ducks or man or life? Anyway, the trees just outside my front room's window have begun to sprout leaves and flowers. Not all of them, of course, some of them are stubborn. Well, they are forced to change at least four times a year, and just when they get use to the winter or the fall or spring or summer they are forced to change again! So, it's not unreasonable to expect of few of the older trees to be grumpy about change . . . "just when I got comfortable in this winter sleep, that asshole sun wakes me up."
The suns pleasantly warm today. Soothing to the skin which is glad to be outside the confines of a sweater or my dirty Levi jacket. They can breath again. That don't care that before too long the sun's brightness will force them to take shelter under a thick "coat" of white sunblock! Not much better or more comfortable than my Aran sweater I received as a present this last Christmas. Aran sweaters are another good reason to love the Irish!
I don't want to talk American politics too much on this blog. However, I am infected with it this year. Yes, politics is a disease, ESPECIALLY this season. I'm not a Republican. I'm maybe more aligned with the Democrats, but I'm not really one of them either. I don't like those kind of labels. If I need one, I would rather be called an American citizen who
truly believes in the Constitution of the United States. Yes, I know, everybody
says they believe in the Constitution. Not many do, though. Oh, sure. They believe in their personal rights granted to them by the COTUS. They believe in the Bill of Rights for themselves and the people who are just like they are, who think like them, talk like them, have the same religious beliefs as them. But the other guy? The American citizen that doesn't have any common bond with them? They don't count. The Constitution isn't for those people, it is only for "us." That's why I'm voting for Hillary. She is the
one candidate that said, "
The only way this country will work is if we All come together and make it work."
Tuesday, March o8, 2o16
I'm late writing the last post for this week. I know. I said I'd get this stuff out on time. I'm a failure.
Hee! I am bummed out because I'm talking politics (mostly on Facebook) with friends who I can't at all agree with. It's not so much that they support this person or that person as much as it is their reasoning to support this person or that person. Their reasoning is usually off. They believe what they want to believe without taking anytime to figure out if their reasoning is right-on or all screwy. Why is that? Because their reason for supporting a certain person is just an excuse because they are going to support the person no matter what. NO MATTER WHAT! One friend of mine posted, "
I am neither young, unemployed or Muslim. I have also kept the same job for nearly 18 years. . .and I am a Bernie supporter. I am neither young, unemployed or Muslim. I have also kept the same job for nearly 18 years. . .and I am a Bernie supporter. Your memes mean nothing to me." I have no idea what that means or why a person would say this kind of . . . hell, I have no idea what this phrase is. And by the way, the phrase, "
Your memes mean nothing to me" is a bastardization of a line from the movie
Manhunter. But most people don't vote for a person because this person or that person really IS good for the country, they vote for them 'cause some how it makes them feel . . .cool. Yeah, cool. You see, picking a POTUS these days isn't based on "
what the person can do for the country, but what can that person do for me." But I'm tired of talking politics to my friends and to myself and to you. It's giving me a headache. I'll see you next week. If there IS a next week. {
smiles}
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