With No Agenda: Let’s set the stage

There was an evening in the autumn months which I remember specifically and for no other reason than the color of the sky, which was beautiful and I, well . . .
I was listening to a song called Us and Them by a band called The Pink Floyd.

I remember this more as a moment of reprieve. To be honest, this was a moment of truce or a temporary stay of execution.
There was nothing about being right or wrong. There was no thinking about the crowds or my status with anyone or anything.

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Letters From the Eastside – Epilogue

Epilogue –

There was someone who read my first book and reached out to tell me to say the book wasn’t for them. They said the book was depressing to which I replied, “The name of the book is “Operation Depression.”
What did they expect, pretty clouds and rainbows?
At first, I admitted to being insulted. Then I realized that this person was right. The book was not for them. and maybe this book isn’t either.

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Letters From the Eastside – The Last Letter

Dear Mother Directional,

When there’s nowhere left to fall, then I suppose there’s no more reasons to be afraid of falling. Anywhere you go, there’s no more need to worry about what comes next. What’s going to happen? What should I do?
When there’s no more room between us and the truth, then there’s no more space for excuses. There’s no more time for the internal lies or the casual denial that we shrug off and dismiss.
There’s nowhere left to turn and no place left to hide.  This is it – and here we are in the wake of our aftermath and, finally, rather than saving face or trying to save our own ass, we find ourselves with no more excuses. (At last)

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Letters From the Eastside – Letter Nineteen

Dear Mother Directional,

I wanted to come clean with you. Here and now. I want to share more about where I am and why. Not to mention the reasons behind where I am; but more, I wanted to send you this to explain what it was like from day one, up until now, and into the foreseeable future, I want to tell you more about what I see when I hopefully go forward.
They say that we have nothing but time here. Yet again, time is only slipping away. There is us, the people inside of these walls, and then there’s the rest of the world or the so-called “normal” people – then there’s life, which seems to go on.
But for us, the patients or inmates or whatever you want to call us, there is only time or the waste thereof. There’s only the slow-moving time that we spend within this small place.

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Letters From the Eastside – Letter Eighteen

Dear Mother Directional,

When there’s science, then there’s a reason to understand why things happen – or why they don’t. When there’s science, there is an understanding of how things work.
For example, we know about the trees. We know about the land and the sea. We know about the winds and the rain. And we know about things like, say, the greenhouse effect, which is something I learned about in ninth grade Earth Science.
When there’s science, we can understand more about the brain. We can understand more about our pathology and understand why we react – or should I say, maybe this explains why we overreact? Maybe this explains why we jump to conclusions.

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Letters From the Eastside – Letter Seventeen

Dear Mother Directional,

When there’s no more reasons to argue or defend yourself, then there’s no more reasons to fight or find out what’s wrong with the world.
Or, when the time comes and the need to justify yourself or explain who you are comes to an end, now we can talk about being free. 
This is when there are no more numbers between us – there’s no more ties to our status and it’s safe to just “be” without having to grab on to a label or find a definition of who we are. 

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Letters From the Eastside – Letter Sixteen

Dear Mother Directional,

I am sending this along to you to be kept with my notes and to be filed with my other letters.
My idea is to find my vision as well as my voice. I say this because I believe I need to put this out there. I have to give myself something to see. Otherwise, what’s the point? 

I am of the belief that if you want something, you have to see it. You have to build an idea in the mind. You have to give yourself a vision and then decorate it. Otherwise, if you can’t see it, then how can you have it? How do you find what you’re looking for if you don’t know what it looks like?

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Letters From the Eastside – Letter Fifteen

Dear Father Correctional,

I know it has been a long time since my last letter to you. But again, it’s hard to send these sometimes because the universe is wide and vast and I, myself, am not sure whether I believe in the afterlife or not. I suppose these letters are simply built on intention. Or more to the point, I suppose these messages are written with the intent of letting go of what was and recreating the things I wished would be.

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Letters From the Eastside – Letter Fourteen

Dear Mother Directional,

I was thinking about an unintentional road trip that I took a while back. I say this was unintentional because there was no pre-set intention or direction. I had no place to go or an idea of anywhere I wanted to see. Then again, I suppose none of that mattered.
No, I just sat in the car and allowed myself to drive in whichever direction the car would take me. I had no plans as to how long this drive would be or if I would be back by a certain time. Sometimes drives like this are the best drives of all. Sometimes you just need to unplug yourself.

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Letters From the Eastside – Letter Thirteen

Dear Mother Directional,

Good morning, Mother. I hope that you are doing well and that the heat hasn’t been too much for you. It seems that yesterday’s humidity was unbearable here in New York City. Days like this always seem to result in a storm and that’s exactly what happened yesterday.
The heat and humidity grew too much and then, eventually, the sky just couldn’t take it anymore. The thunder roared over Midtown and then out of nowhere, a downfall of rain came like never before.

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