Brett Rants

Getting Clear

Do those words even mean what you think they mean?

self portrait of the best kind, there is all sort of distortion, I would tell you where I took it, but who knows the legalities, at the crux, the heart, at my heart, where it would be, there is a cool effect, and now that I think on it, if you recognize the locale, you might agree how fitting it all is, me overlaid, it overlaid on me

My brain is overloaded with contradictory goals. Even now, do I waste this life. I could be drinking a beer... that would clear my head, but I want to clear my desktop; it'll never happen, too many things, they come every day, like an avalanche, unending, the ideas, so many unimplemented, so many more not even tried, never shall I try... and then the knowledge, shall we speak of the knowledge and the endless quest thereof?

balboa trees, really like those intertwining tree trunks, you have heard of an army of one, well, this here is a forest of one

My mind goes around in circles, ever faster, spiralling onward, downward, is that what we wish to say? I was angry, I am angry, I am angry all the time, it has become my new voice, but not a voice I can use, harness or utilize, it is not my muse, oh, I can do the short story, but then I am pleased, with the writing, the bit, the coherency, and the anger goes, even now, I can feel it go, watch it's passing... of course, I wasn't even angry, this time, not now.

another balboa, this time a highlight of the garbage can kept at its base, yes, my life purpose is to provide shade while folks throw their beer bottles out, such is the life of a tree in the park

I was at a store when it all coalesced, the first part, the realization it had gone to far, some simple thing, she stapled the receipt, yes, that, the receipt now has a staple on it, some stupid piece of paper, a bit of advertising that I would not have otherwise read, some executive will get a bonus for thinking that up, stapling the ad to the receipt so I must attend to it, look at it, if the receipt is to be of any use or value. One example of many, of the annoyance, the unending annoyances of life, this life, society, this society that we have created, live in...

Do you notice the pot holes? The speeders? The traffic violators? The unending crime?

just a street, the sign, I'm pretty sure it old, really old, almost a historic marker at this point, says something about naked dancers, below it a police car, not much else on the street

The police did a sweep yesterday... or was it the day before, hardly matters, either, or, nor, nobody went anywhere, the cost would be too prohibitive, I've watched a police officer spend a half hour1 (see below) explaining to a homeless man that he couldn't lie where he was, but lying in the middle of the public path ten feet away would be OK, and then, spending the next half hour1 (same place, far-far below) helping the drunk fool move the ten feet rather than taking him in, arresting him, and the city paying the cost for his night in jail; so what where they issuing, clearly, arrests were out of the question, so warnings, maybe, or fifty dollar tickets, which would turn into a day of picking up litter by the side of the street for the type of folk who fifty dollars might as well been a million, but that's not the point...

ah, now this is a nice picture, half of me wants to save it, the other says, use it and more will come, it is of a gunship in the harbor, little pt liferaft thing, with a fifty caliber maching gun on the prow, nothing says the pursuit of happiness like a fifty caliber smoking in the morning

The stone age is only one age removed, that's what they say, one generation... perhaps less, it's all falling apart, I want to say something of note here, bring in economics, some truth, some observation, I could, I would, I shall, it's all just a shell game, move the poor, this way and that, land values go up, land values go down, and the money moves around, ever faster, ever faster, oh, yes, I see it, happening all the time, like my friends on the street, I see it, but do you see it, the world falling apart, the world we live... without honour, that's the real thing, if I could isolate it, reduce it to one base cause, it's the lack of honour, no one even seems to know what that means any more... probably never did, no one, ever, only the select few, heroes, because they could see it, embrace it... or fools, it's all quite the same...

in the rain, because, why not

So, have I done it? Made a Rant worthy of the name? Let me look at my notes:
a graveyard, one of those, what are they called, private buildings, with a power supply transformer grid in the background, nearly nothing to do with the text, but something had to go here

But why anger, have you seen Blade Runner, do you understand the riddle, you see a LeezardTM by the side of the road, lying on it's back, frying in the sun, he is dying, but you don't pick him up, why, why don't you pick him up, why, why, why, and, of course, that's where the replicant looses it, his mind, his cool, his temper, 'don't talk to me about...'

I guess it's a long list...

good old fashioned sex appearl, imagine what you like, or imagine a picture of me, that should get your blood boiling, one way or the other

I have come to the conclusion that I lack a certain Adoration of the Self. Yes, this, coming from me, the man, who, when as a joke, I said I was going to become a hedonist, a narcissist, the general reaction was, you already are.

one of those cool pictures with all sorts of effects, the emerald eyes filter, if you must know, of the beach, lifeguard station being the focus

I have Too Many Projects, this, a simple rant, see how it has blown up, all out of proportion, and you know, those pictures just don't take themselves, I spend hours, literally hours of my life, my time, and for what, I'll tell you, worried you were, I can see, thought I would not explain, tell why, so I will, I spent all this time creating this page, creating this site, and for what, mostly to pay homage to a moment of thought... now, long gone.

I need to walk on the beach. I need to spend more time with my friends, you know who you are...

street graffiti, pretty sure this is a store front down the ways, but one never knows, it's like a garage door with four squares, if that makes any sense, and in each square there's a tag, it's sort of interesting how the pattern worked out, one guy got the whole right half, another the top left, the last the bottom left, I find it soothing, and though I'll happily argue graffiti leads to the decline, I can appreciate the desire to cover up brick and motar

And the cure, the real cure, taking that walk in the city, slow, easy, a complete absence of thought, not even thinking when she says, hello, hey, hi, not a care in the world, not I, check out her teeth, you could get lost in those teeth, a billboard, a sign, her past on display, her life on the street, but it was a bit of street graffiti that had caught my eye, and I was debating whether to take a picture or not, I didn't, all appearances aside, but in that moment, her standing, trying to get a grip, I spoke the truth, what was on my mind, the police, they're making a sweep today, really, she says, and then, she's off, she hadn't even noticed before, I mean, it concerned her, was of her, her world, and she hadn't even noticed the sweep, how could you not notice, but already, she's down the street, calling to her friends, and the police, they smile, as I walk on by, my teeth, my clothers, my habit of hygiene, the lack of piss in my pants, telling all who cared to see, a different story, a different tale of the past...

I like the way the filter makes the sweater bounce, really just putting an image here to keep with the pattern, this is a real nice image, filter works just right, makes the girls sweater pop, but the only thing that makes me angry about the picture is the traffic, I hate walking in traffic, so there it is, or I had the picture and wanted to use it

I don't know why I have such anger, there is no need, such beauty about, but we have been there, time to move on, writing about Zen is an oxymoron, there is nothing Zen about writing, and this bit of writing isn't about Zen, just another thought that needed immortalizing, when the computers of the future read this Rant, let them know that I, being of free mind and body, being free to do almost, nearly, pretty much anything, chose to spend my evening writing, composing this. This, yes, this is what I chose, choose, will continue to do so, a behaviour pattern that is slowly making me realize how difficult humans are, and will continue to be, to understand. No part is greater than the whole of:
This and the next, graffiti painted over, censored out, badly, graffiti is still there, some of the intent, still clear ditto, just less so

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How does that saying go?
If I had the time,
I'd have made it shorter.

But no,
not I, that's not my style...

And you know what?
I probably didn't even say
what I wanted to say.

Yeah, it's time for that beer.

NOTE 1: a half hour here, a half hour there, clearly, I exaggerate, at best I spent five minutes watching this transaction as I waited for the light to change before crossing the street, so maybe I waited an extra circuit or two, and maybe I didn't. What was clear, to me, was that the drunken fool (once again, I use the term pejoratively, or, er, that is to say, figuratively), but whatever, the man had probably just got done 'dosing' himself, my guess alcohol, not so much heroin in my neck of the woods and he was packing too much body fat to be crashing off meth, but whatever, alcohol, the devil's drink, best guess, not that I would know, and although I was across the street, I felt I could understand the gentleman's (do I go too far) pantomime to near perfection, 'I am far to drunk to move, officer, see, can't be done, legs won't hold the weight', and then, once again, I'm fairly certain that being the philosophical sort (and because the police officer just wasn't letting it go), the man must have said something along the lines of (insert your favourite meme here):

A dog defecates in the middle of the road and nobody bats an eye.

A drunken fool pisses his pants on private property and everyone looses their minds.

So, yeah, beer time.
There but the Grace of God and all that.
Or wine, I hear good things about wine, nectar of the god's, I do hear tell...

© copyright 2016 Brett Paufler