Taking what life throws at me one pitch at a time
Great Expectorations
The thing about corridors
You want to be sure
You are on the right floor
Before you knock on one
Of the corridor's doors
But no matter which one
Don't spit on the floors
π΅
Corridor
Be on the right floor
Please use the cuspidor
That's what it's for
π΅
π΅ π΅ π΅ π΅ π΅ π΅ π΅ π΅
I was less of a boat anchor today than I was yesterday.
ββββββββββ
So I anchored myself with a check in to Obscured House
ββββββββββ
After a brief visit
ββββββββββ
To the big lake on my doorstep
ββββββββββ
On my way to the Jewels;
ββββββββββ
Where once upon a time I used to cash checks.
In the mid 1960’s my Aunt and Uncle bought a house near where we lived. Maybe one or two social classes up from my neighborhood. Quite literally the other side of the tracks. I would have been nine or ten at the time. So of course they invited their poor relatives over to tour their new home. Actually, they had always been in the rotation of family holiday get together locations so much time would be spent visiting for the five or six years they lived there. That is until they took another step up to the burbs leaving us real Chicagoans behind. It was a nice two story home with the best bonus in the world for a boy my age. The second story bathroom top row of tiles had delightful naked blonde cartoon women, ala Marilyn Monroe, discreetly hugging bubbles in various provocative but still tasteful poses on alternating rectangles around the whole bathroom. Just a little above my pre-puberty eye level. But what an eyeful for me in those clueless days of the mid 60’s. I didn’t know why I liked ’em. But boy did I. Even to this day the memory makes me smile. Best of all nobody else seemed to pay them any mind and I knew better than to remark upon them. So that particular decor choice by the previous owners stayed and I had many inspired visits to that lavatory as the revelations of puberty over took me. I think I hold those tiles responsible for my life long penchant for blonds.
(ｑβ‘βΏβ‘ｑ)
(ｑβ‘βΏβ‘ｑ)
β β β β β β β β β β β β β β β β β β β
I still wonder what the people who bought the house from my aunt and uncle thought of their choices?
What was once an almost imperceptible rumble may or may not have been there all along. To those paying attention to rumbles, those scratchings were already on the wall. It’s just a matter what attention is given. Many things are a concern. All the usual accoutrements of the American Scheme. Both purveyors and consumers. Some more than. Some less than. The claw of complicity claws rampant o’er the land. Once noticed, the volume of rumblings continues to climb. It fills every silence with it’s sticky content. That content grew bigger teeth. Fiercer talons. Now content is clawing at the door. At the window. Leaving marks on once impervious sensibilities. Ramparts of rationality. The claw of opinions. Things influencing both happy and sad events. Highly unlikely conspiracies. Rabbit holes that have no more bunnies to give and yet do. Claw back attention to things that influence circle encompasses. Ignore the outrage industrial complex. Try to do good where it can be done. Be kind or just be.
βParticipate joyfully in the sorrows of the world. We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy. The warrior’s approach is to say βyesβ to life: βyeaβ to it all.β
βΒ Joseph Campbell,Β The Hero With a Thousand Faces
π¦π¦π¦π¦
History is filled with examples of one Alien Nation accumulating and acquiring the stuff of another Alien Nation by any means necessary. (i.e. by hook or by crook) When everybody is an Alien, nobody is. The coagulation of Aliens into Nations is where the real mischief commenced. One bunch of Aliens would begin to alienate another bunch of Aliens. So instead of unum ad unum alienation, it became a “We’re not the aliens, you are.” assignation alienation. So it has been and will continue to be until the Space Invaders arrive, or when us Aliens become the Space Invaders elsewhere. That’s when the real results on this alienation algorithm will reveal itself to all who can or care to see. In the meantime….
She seemed to embody empowerment. Queen of all she surveyed. Her professional name was Terra Cotta. She dominated the realm of reality entertainments. The public set their internal compasses with Terra being their true north. Whatever whim she chose at whatever moment she chose would set trends spiraling towards her fancy. But Terra never acknowledged she had feet of clay. One fateful day she decided that clay shoes would be the fashion statement of the decade. But when she placed her feet of clay into her shoes of clay and added heat she became stagnant and unable to motivate. In motion or influence. Her once adoring fans began to drift away leaving her alone on her terracotta pedestal. No longer adored. Just ignored like a lump of clay.
Particles above
Particles below
Riding the wave
Of negative flow
Constellation above
Constellation below
Suspended belief
Over disbeliefs tow
A Scroll Threw Life 