There is a go-ahead sign to think and be. “You should be who you are,” right? But then of course, there is the truth behind the models and the smiles and the name tags which, in fairness – I have to say it, I call bullshit.
Now, I do my best to never use profanity in my prose, especially in the first paragraph, in fear that some grammar-police critic will come along and slash the heart of my thoughts and point at every flaw. But still,
I call bullshit.
Sunday Morning, 04/24/2022
Not sure if you can see this. Or, in fairness; I am not sure if you can see what I see or feel what I feel. And yet, I know you can see the sun and the sky. I know that you can feel the return of warmth. As the warm weather returns, I am sure that you have your own connections with the springtime – and of course, you have your own connection with the summer.
Continue readingThe Mind Between Rich and Poverty
Ah the mind.
When you’re on, you’re on and when you’re great, you’re great. The mind is a place where we live and we breathe. We think and we grow or we think and we fall.
It all depends . . .
We are a sea of choices. Which one? What do we choose and oh, what happens if we choose and wish that we chose otherwise?
For example, we find ourselves in a train station and for the moment, I will use this station as a symbol of life. There are two shuttles. Both will run parallel yet both rides are completely separate experiences. One shuttle could be mild. The other shuttle could be uplifting and promising.
Or, one shuttle can be packed with people since all of us are on the move and all of us are searching for something and all of us are on the way to the other side (or whatever that means).
Abstract Prose: Truth
We wake up and we look around.
what do we see?
I often wonder if we know what we’re looking at.
I also wonder if any of this is real?
Is most of what we see an illusion?
The world. Each other. Life and liberty. The pursuit of happiness –
What are these things?
What is any of this if not an idea or lofty concept of life, which we are taught about and hope for?
I wonder.
Continue readingAbout a Drive and Some Music
Breathe – It’s time to get away to a place where the destination is unknown.
There was a trip I took that began with no intention, other than to get away. I had no direction or reservation to be anywhere at any specific time. No, this was a whim or no, this was a long drive to nowhere.
By now, I’m sure you know that I love these rides. I allow the turn of a key to switch more than just the ignition. To be clear, the playlist is important on rides like this one. You have to pick the right music and once the door shuts and the seatbelt comes around the chest; once the buckle clasps itself into the holder; the car goes in reverse to pull out from the driveway and then in drive to move ahead.
And that’s it. Off we go.
From the Junkie Dairies: You Can Come Out Now
The truth is . . .
No one wants to know. At least, not really. No one wants to lift their heads from their early morning cereal in the kitchen of their homes while reading their early morning newspaper, surrounded by a white picket fence, a two-car garage and their 2.5 kids.
It is a comfortable spot on this side of purgatory.
I’ve been told about this. Or, maybe warned is a better word to use here. But either way, I made a promise.
I made several of them to be exact and whether this coincides with a welcoming view and public acceptance or consumption; and whether people see this as “too raw” or “too real” has nothing to do with me.
Stream of Consciousness/Insomnia Prose – Just a Flow
I find myself in the night, thinking about the midnight air at places like up high, or on rooftops in the city where moonlight dreams hush down along the blackness of a late night view along the Hudson River.
I find myself reminiscing of things that never really happened yet I reminisce about them as if they were real.
I find myself standing in the late night mindset. I stand where the air is still and the streets are quiet. As I look upwards to the midnight sky, I find myself wondering what happened to the dreams of a life beyond our hopes – or is it better to say the life we hoped for that was beyond our dreams.
Who knows?
Besides, this is just a quick moment of introspection.
The Secret of Interpretation
The secret is simple. Are you ready for this?
The secret of interpretation is there is no secret at all. I see what I see and you see what you see and no matter how we compare or relate, neither of us can fully prove that what we see are the same things.
I don’t know what blue looks like to you. I don’t know whether you relate to the coming of dawn and the colors of an autumn sky in the suburbs, about 45 miles east of New York City.
A Poem, A Symphony, and A Dream
The sky is blue now and perhaps we have grown beyond our differences from this time last year. Perhaps we’ve improved or at least I hope we have.
I am watching the sunlight as it beams over the large old trees that stand tall behind the small chapel, which has been in my town much longer than you or I have been alive.
It is a moment that we share, now, in the early morning sunlight which has just risen above the horizon. It is warm which shows promise to the warmer weather that has yet to come.
It’s not here yet. But summer will be soon enough. I know it. And so do you.
A Rant to End Rants
Please forgive me but this is part of what I do.
It’s never easy to speak honestly or least of all to tell the truth about the so-called life or the feelings or thoughts and ideas that come along with certain disorders. And it’s true.
They pin stigmas on us like pins on a map. Perhaps the pins are red; as if to resemble a warning of what to expect (and what not to).
Perhaps this is to make a mental note of who we are and who we were. Or, maybe this is a judgment, which is more of a reflection on others.
The Written Addiction 