Breadcrumbs


Breadcrumbs



And if I have not got it right, what matter?


* * * *

When you think about it, the corporal body is really more than a little disgusting.


* * * *

Very unlikely the world is at all interested in my thoughts,

But I set them down just the same, untarnished by criticism.


* * * *

Groupthink not allowed.


* * * *

I’ve left it for you to find; rotsa ruck.


* * * *

No doubt the rare, dedicated reader will discover many spelling and grammatical errors,

As well as any number of vernacular uses that torment Grammar Nazis without end.

Alas, dictionaries, thesauruses, and spellcheck, can only save me so many times.


* * * *

All the ancestors combined have never seen or done

All the things these times have offered me and myself and I.

What an astonishing thing to have lived so many lives in just one.


* * * *

At some point we will not see each other ever again.


* * * *

Thanks for making it easy not to care.


* * * *

Going through the motions.


* * * *

Didn’t feel like waiting.


* * * *

The world will do just fine without me.


* * * *

a.k.a. Peter Pan


* * * *

Am I?


* * * *

Sally on, Brave Knight.


* * * *

As far as death and taxes go, I prefer death.


* * * *

Get out while the gettin’s good.


* * * *

All my dire predictions are usually punctuated by: “I’ll be glad to be wrong.”


* * * *

Oh, all the things I never used to think about.


* * * *

Women, a lot of work for so little return.


* * * *

Doing it different this time.


* * * *

If these many thoughts are to have any duration in the future-past,

It is because I was first and foremost a peasant, a laborer, a “Joe Everyman,”

Before philosophy, the study of existence, the fool’s quest, took root.


* * * *

All I need is a phone; don't need for it to be smart.


* * * *

So yawn I anymore cannot.


* * * *

Pretty sure I am already dead.


* * * *

Woren’t born in no manger; just an old ranch house in Hughson, Kaliforny.


* * * *

Have always had a penchant for death.


* * * *

Oh dear, I have become a philosopher, haven’t I?

We shall have to remedy that someday soon.


* * * *

So much more might have been written had the body not succumbed to its mortal inevitability.


* * * *

Hunger for this world or any other is reaching its end.


* * * *

Putting pen to paper inflicts less bother in minds that would rather not.


* * * *

It is the time of consequences, and I am paying my pound of flesh.


* * * *

Don’t share your delusion, sorry; please go annoy someone else.


* * * *

As I work my way closer to River Styx,

Trying to keep a woman content is just not the way

I could anymore be bothered to fritter away time and energy.

Way too Sisyphean a task for this Peter Pan.


* * * *

Very little read or watched or experienced do I more than barely recall.

What a thing it is to slowly decline, to slowly give way to the inevitable.


* * * *

Rest assured that despite the flavor of some of my interests,

No creature, two-legged or otherwise, was harmed or killed.


* * * *

I am a liar, a cheat, a thief, and plot murder and mayhem daily.

And whatever that does not deal with makes me a hypocrite, too.


* * * *

A truthsayer, except when I’m lying.


* * * *

Yup, tossing out the baby, too.


* * * *

What is written here is as much as this mind will allow.


* * * *

Another day of wandering the halls of irony and paradox.


* * * *

The keyboard is stage enough; applause is such an empty sound.


* * * *

Did that one, and that one, too.


* * * *

Used to read lots of books during the younger daze.

Now I generally watch movies and documentaries and nostalgic television programs.

Never paid for cable; only catch it rarely in other living rooms.

Alas, so many projects left undone.


* * * *

So weary of pretending to be a human being.

All the vanity, all the greed, all the pain.

But hey, what is a god-man to do?


* * * *

If it is to be read, it will be found and shared; if not, it will be as if it had never been written.


* * * *

Yet another day in the pitter-patter of a busy mind.


* * * *

Now is as good a moment as any to end it.

It is not necessary for me to continue thus,

For to continue would only further wander

That which has already been so often known.

Do not care much about growing old anyway.

Way too much bother for what it is worth.


* * * *

Yet another day of pain and suffering underway.


* * * *

Contemplating the end many moments every day, but still managing to cling like everybody else.


* * * *

I have certainly written humankind off.

As you have no doubt heard me say more than once,

It has been interesting, but I would never do this to my Self again.


* * * *

Sixty-seven is a nice prime number for a departure year.


* * * *

Counting down.


* * * *

Never intended to write all this; it just bubbled up of its own accord.


* * * *

There is very little that interests me about growing old.


* * * *

Materialism has played a big part in my absurdity.


* * * *

I could not live your life; to perchance witness a snippet was enough to get the gist.


* * * *

A long life, so many agonies, so many ecstasies, and a new day underway.


* * * *

I am nearly run out of time,

But have played my piece, left behind my piece,

For those relative few who might chance across and ponder upon it.


* * * *

For my art, I do suffer.


* * * *

How remarkable it has been to have lived through

Both the pinnacle of the human paradigm

And its slide into the great decline.


* * * *

Oblivion, my favorite.


* * * *

So tired of being tired.


* * * *

Have somehow managed to survive my foolishness longer

Than some, if not many, would have ever thought possible.


* * * *

Writing it this way, without the influence of followers or naysayers,

Has left me free to write anything that came to mind,

No matter how inane or implausible.


* * * *

Getting older is rather annoying.


* * * *

My Little Pyramid


* * * *

Spent my life walking away from things I was done with or did not work for me.


* * * *

It has been quite an adventure, many lifetimes rolled into one, eclectic's the word.


* * * *

Dead while living.


* * * *

Disturbed am I? Yeah, by you.


* * * *

Alas for the book industry that movies and such are more my medium these golden pond daze.

The attention span is no longer sturdy enough to sit for hours and hours of fine literature anymore.


* * * *

Prayer: May have tried it once or twice just to see what it felt like, and the answer was meh.


* * * *

Pain is the teacher, and I am weary of the lesson.


* * * *

Done that … and that, too … and also that.


* * * *

Need I say more? Need I say less? Need I have ever said anything at all?


* * * *

An invalid I have become, I have, I have.


* * * *

I am center stage in my universe, and a reflection in yours.


* * * *

For my art I did suffer.


* * * *

Napman


* * * *

I, Assumption


* * * *

These are the drugs I have thus far done in my time:

Pharmaceutical: morphine, amphetamine.

Street: marijuana, hashish, psilocybin mushrooms, ecstasy,

lysergic acid diethylamide, peyote, nitrous oxide, methamphetamine, cocaine, opioids.

And store bought: sugar, caffeine, nicotine, in all their nefarious forms.


* * * *

Done gone rogue Buddha.


* * * *

Do I laugh? Do I cry? Do I love? Do I loathe? Do I enjoy? Do I suffer?

Do I Create? Do I preserve? Do I destroy?

What a thing, this fickle mind.


* * * *

Older and older, more and more withered by the day,

I conceal myself in one open or another.

Seen or unseen, what matter?


* * * *

How inexplicable, how curious, how odd,

To have discerned the awareness, indelible source of all.

What an amazing mystery, no answer to be had, were one ever called for.


* * * *

Could cynicism be any darker than what I have herein painted?


* * * *

Along with all the other pains of this mind-body’s long and winding sojourn,

A carpal tunnel operation took a disastrous turn by my own hubris.

Was never a fast typist, and am now even painfully worse.

It is what it is, and must be endured as such.

No point wishing it was different.

It is either drive on,

Or a lead infusion of the lethal sort.


* * * *

What I have to offer is priceless beyond all value.


* * * *

When it comes to solutions to problems of great political or economic magnitude,

Any that I might conjure are just as opinionated and arbitrary as everyone else’s.


* * * *

Yet another witty ditty waiting for the keyboard.


* * * *

The Ditty Man


* * * *

Oh joy, another thing to be responsible for.


* * * *

Fantasy is much less bother, and makes for better napping.


* * * *

Thoughts to my Self.


* * * *

​I refuse to play that game.


* * * *

Have yet to meet a man whose marital bliss I envy.​


* * * *

Running out of excuses to wake up in the morning.


* * * *

I be human being who happened to be born in Kaliforny,

In the Disunited States of America at its height of its delusion and greed,

And never had the acuity nor the craving to get out of Dodge.

Being inside the dronosphere was a big plus.


* * * *

Hopefully, the Reaper does not mind being laughed at.


* * * *

Moving slow but moving.


* * * *

No point to getting old and withered and decrepit as far as I discern it.

Nothing much left that needs to be seen or done in this mind.

The human paradigm is headed toward a harsh end.

No need to experience much more of it.


* * * *

Metropolises, large or small, do mot do anything for me anymore.

Just masses of cement, metal, glass, plastic, asphalt, and ceaseless consumption,

Leading nowhere this eye of awareness ever needs to wander again.


* * * *

This poor old body is having trouble handling this Soul anymore.

When they say the young don’t know what they’ve got,

I’m here to testify it be as true as true can be.


* * * *

I have always done whatever until it stopped amusing me.


* * * *

When I cook for myself at this writing, I don’t; I graze.


* * * *

Oh, for a quantum-piercing time machine

To watch how the human paradigm plays out.

Will it be as madly dystopian as I imagine?


* * * *

Staying attached in an aloof sort of way.


* * * *

Every mind concocts a different Jesus, and mine died too long ago to bother about.


* * * *

What can I say, nothing interests me.


* * * *

Feel free to go ruin someone else’s day, and take your time about it.


* * * *

Had to bother waking up again today.


* * * *

Hey, I didn’t ask to be me.


* * * *

Don’t know, but I doubt it.


* * * *

So many things I just cannot be bothered to remember anymore.


* * * *

You think you got it rough; I’ve got to deal with this guy every moment.


* * * *

These writings will go the way all writings, all thoughts go; quietly, without fanfare.


* * * *

That stage does not interest me.


* * * *

Do not even think I am going to look back.


* * * *

Alas that I have been such a disillusionment to so many people

Along the long and winding road that has woven this mind’s tapestry.

Such is the destiny of those for whom their cosmos is the first and last pearl.


* * * *

Yummy, another way to die.


* * * *

Had a good time; alas that all come to one end or another.


* * * *

Oh, how I sometimes long for that unadorned Old School time,

Where a pleasurable sense of solitude and tranquility quietly reigned,

And the world with all its endless tangles was far away, only barely important.


* * * *

Please do not hesitate to take your delusion elsewhere.


* * * *

Prayin’ for rain.


* * * *

Mowgli in the forest out the back door,

Huck Finn in the Mississippi across the street,

Sisyphus daily pushing the boulder up the mountain,

Johnny Appleseed casting his reflections about,

The Joyful Curmudgeon cynically amused,

Jester Amok unleashing definitive fare,

And Peter Pan in the essence of all.


* * * *

Putting into words what words can never tell.


* * * *

An articulate destiny.


* * * *

Dissolving into oblivion.


* * * *

Eternity’s historian.


* * * *

Wrong rock if you are looking for a saint.


* * * *

… Once upon a time I was six …

… And then sixteen … and then 26 … 36 … 46 … 56 …

… And now 66 … perhaps someday 76 … maybe even 86 … or even an improbable 96 …

… What a dream …


* * * *

I am agnostic, I do not know, I do not  care.

I have no sense, no discernment that there is a god,

But if there is, it surely includes anything and everything.

Even me, even you.


* * * *

Just asleep enough to write all this.


* * * *

The convenience of being an unknown solo act

Is not having to cater to one herd mentality or another.

There is no freedom in the expectations of political correctness.


* * * *

Why do I keep coming back?


* * * *

It is not for me to decide.


* * * *

How many countless hours have I spent tinkering with this student-of-life wanderfest.

All the reading, writing, talking, typing, editing, programming, sharing.

Yeesch and by golly, what a hobby, what a quixotic pastime.

And to think, time does not even exist as more than a neurological conception.


* * * *

Getting old is filled with so many bothers, and no doubt many more just over the horizon.


* * * *

So many memories washing into the sea of oblivion.


* * * *

I attend the moment; this right-here-right now.

That is my church, 24/7/365, for the rest of mind.

Am so content I can barely lift a finger to do more.


* * * *

My little hobby.


* * * *

Not easy to endure, but fascinating to watch​.


* * * *

So wealthy I barely open the wallet to spend more.


* * * *

It is only by the grace of the gods that I am single and chlldless.


* * * *

The good news is that it will not be my problem much longer.


* * * *

Obviously not all that gung-ho about being a cancer cell.


* * * *

I have worked very hard to be this lazy.


* * * *

Truth is so much simpler, so much more austere, than all the multiple-syllable wordplay

That I and others of the same ilk so meticulously, so  legalistically use,

In our relatively pointless philosophical prattle.


* * * *

Full of opinions, same as everyone else, and all just as meaningless.


* * * *

Yet another overbaked dogma.


* * * *

It is the same today as it was yesterday as it will be tomorrow.


* * * *

Born to do nothing.


* * * *

Don’t need it, don’t use it, but like having it, twisted.


* * * *

Too late in the game to have any appreciable impact.


* * * *

Some daze it is hard to remember if it is yesterday or tomorrow.


* * * *

How monotonous to be surrounded by true believers,

Followers, minions, sycophants, groupies, toadies, gofers, hangers-on,

Devotees, disciples, flatterers, adherents, supporters, admirers, enthusiasts, underlings,

Cronies, yes men, fans, acolytes, favorites, optimists, subordinates, slaves,

Fawners, bootlickers, brownnosers, and ass-kissers.

Give me a nitpicking skeptic and a grousing cynic any day.


* * * *

The ditty mind humming away.


* * * *

About as foreign a foreign policy as absurdity allows.


* * * *

Tilling my own ground.


* * * *

It has been interesting studying the world, but ignorance would have been much more blissful.


* * * *

What a thing it is to grow old; so much bother, so much suffering.


* * * *

Yet still I cling.


* * * *

Yup, I’ll forget you, too, and you, me, no doubt, no worries.


* * * *

When it comes to getting ample sleep

In this bruised and battered, aging body,

Every night, every day, is its own adventure.


* * * *

None of it is right here, right now.


* * * *

Another ditty written by the hands of time.


* * * *

Joe Everyman.


* * * *

How pleasant to write anything I want, and know few if any will ever read it.


* * * *

Ignorance was bliss.


* * * *

This is what I have to offer, this is my gift; whether or not you accept it is on you.


* * * *

A Christmas Tree is dying to come home with you.


* * * *

I brake for tailgaters.


* * * *

Already dead, and do not even know it.


* * * *

Spent life looking for meaning and purpose until I finally realized there is none.

That the entire human drama and the dreamtime in which it is set,

 Is but an illusion, a game rigged for delusion.


* * * *

"How much of it is just the latest snake oil?" he wondered, not for the first time that day.


* * * *

What point to philosophy that does not translate into daily living?


* * * *

The mind of Michael.


* * * *

Th-th-th-that's all folks, until the next round.