Do those words even mean what you think they mean?
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?
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.
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?
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...
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...
So, have I done it? Made a Rant worthy of the name? Let me look at my notes:
- anger walk
- receipt staple: loss of goodwill
- fall into fuzz: need to get clear
- the meaning of that term: we shall not go there
- I am a Heretic
- I am The Source
- and the competing agendas
- website: rants
- programming: linux
- economics: ponder inflation
- is it not clear
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...
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.
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...
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 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:
- Pot Holes
- Tax Evaders
- Drug Use
- The Pursuit of Happiness
- And Freedom of Expression
How does that saying go?
If I had the time,
I'd have made it shorter.
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