Your Joking Right?

Andrea & I we like to go up on the hill for a hike. It's a nice break. You can see everything up there. Everything looks so small from up there,the little casinos, the tiny cars that have all these important errands to run,the little schools with the small bullies & microscopuc homework assignments. The fat jogger on the side of the road desperate to lose weight no bigger than the size of a potato bug, the tiny gamblers, drug addicts, alcoholics getting pulled along by their addictions, the little centipede behind on his house payment in the "nice" area who is contemplating suicide, and all the worries and pains and realities that trap people that look so amazingly small from up there. Sometimes I like to pretend what it must be like to a God and have one of these little microbes of which I am say, "How come there is so much pain in the world? Why do you allow wars?" Hey it's a good question even from a microbe. Good point. So I look around at these buildings that from up here look like fancy cardboard boxes with no real plan or forethought it seems at all and I think about how these tiny little guys give their whole short tiny existence to....this. And I say, "Your joking right?"

The best Xmas present is Nothing.

"Hoarder!" That's what my old friend Les yelled at me pointing his finger at me agitated. It was like a weird excerpt from "The Invasion of the Body Snatchers," where the man is found out by the alien. In his face was agitated and tensed and yes humorous and okay shocking. I wasn't a hoarder. Sure I collected things but they were cool they were important and they had value.

Les was tired trying to be polite to me about this he wasn't built that way. He was from a place where life was short and you had to fix you and your friend's problems so you can get a bit of happiness before you die.

But what was he talking about?

"I am tired of doing a dance to get just to get to the bathroom. I'm tired of wrestling with your shoes just when I want to go to the kitchen. Your going to take all this junk and your going to throw it away."

I felt a pain in my chest, a searing dull pain of a heart that had been broken a long time ago but it still felt some pain. And the thought of letting go of anything was terribly painful to me. These things they were my companions and they had never let me down. So I started to protest. And Les said,

"Oh really, so you need 10 empty plastic containers with one thing in them. Okay let me go to the kitchen and we will get you some more. Why not put a penny in each one. And these three pairs of shoes here when you only wear one. But you have these just in case."

"Well I need them in case of..."

"Hoarder!!!" He screamed. "Hoarder!!!"

Well nobody had ever said that before. They had tried to be "nice." They dance around the subject quite nicely calling me a "collector."

But now I looked around and it was like a veil started to fall away from my eyes. I began to see all this junk everywhere. He was right. I could barely walk to my kitchen and I could see that it was getting worse and I could see that it was going to continue to get worse.

So slowly carefully Les began to patieltly work with me. At first I could barely part with anything but when I got the first five milk crate loads out and it was painful. It felt like someone had cut off a finger. But I can handle pain. So the next day I looked around and felt a little better. It was at Christmas time and I could now walk from my chair in the living room to my kitchen without stepping on anything. And you know what? I couldn't remember what I had given to the thrift store. These things that I thought was so important. I couldn't remember. So the next day I did more cases and it was like getting another Christmas present. I felt freer. I felt lighter. I could think more clearly. The things that I was psychically connected to they were there anymore and I didn't have to worry about them anymore and it freed my mind up a bit. I was amazed. All this time I had been desperate to fill up my life and I had used stuff to do it. And now as I gave this stuff away I felt that I was getting my pieces of my life back. I could find things and all the things that really were precious to me I could see them now. At first this caused some panic because there was a lot more space. But after a few days the panic subsides. After a while I realized that the reason Les got so upset was because like me he had depression and he had these same problems only in New York where he had very nice possesions and his house was filled with the nicest stockpiles of high quality garbage. Much better than mine. Helena his friend came in and she started throwing things away. She made him realize what he was doing to himself.

"Now," Les said, "All I need is a fork and plate and a cup and a plate for my friend. I don't need a whole cupboard full of plates."

So now I'm filling my life with things that can't be seen or felt. I am filling my life with order and space and so many other things that most wouldn't consider because they can't see them.

I've still got a ways to go. I still have to ask myself. "Do I really need two of these?" When was the last time I used that? When will I use it again? Can I live without this? Slowly what is really important to me is appearing while the refuse the garbage of my life burns away. So many years wasted so many piles of misery on top of my already severe depression. I still have a lot of work to do. I was to five milk crates a day. I've slowed up to five milk crates a week. So my friend Les he did this for me he could've taken the easy way. But he knew that he could be in a better place right now and that this affected him too and saved me. Why don't people think about stuff like that anymore. Why did get so stupid? I don't try to do everything. I just do this little area here today so that I have gotten another little piece of my life back and claimed another territory back for the country of Himpshaw.

Work

Nothing is absolute but for some people, work is the only way to learn certain things like attitudes and responsibilities, the auto motor response, the importance of interacting with others, physical and mental exercise, the understanding that nothing is for free really, that all good things take work, the important method of mentally escaping from your problems through work. I've had people that in my weird situation on welfare that have literally begged me for work. The largest animal to the smallest organism work. All just want to know their place and what they are supposed to do. Some steal and lie but after time if they are competant they realize that it takes more work to do this and they might as well just go to work. They say that you should take your joy and turn it into your job but if it becomes your job then you may rob yourself of that secret joy. It may not be such a bad thing to learn to deal with situations that maybe you don't necessarily like. The first few times you have to do something difficult it's hard but after the 300th time... Marriage takes work. Work takes work. We can work it out. There are rich who's houses and lives are a mess because they don't work. There are poor who's houses are immaculate and their quality of life is impressive. This is because they work very hard.

So money is a symbol of work. We must feel sorry for those who just take money as "real" for their total lack of understanding. They don't see it as a tool like a hammer. I could be argued that a hammer could be as useful as money in the right hands.But people don't go crazy over a hammer like they do money. As they cannot see that it just a symbol and it is not real and Lives are going to fall apart. It will become a superficial symbol. Everything will turn green and they will find that it is though they are trapped, trapped in that pyramid with that eye staring at them like the judge that is their very selves.

Give to the poor rich guy? You are crazy!

I know it's hard to think that a rich man may need charity. One can barely afford a pair of shoes and you say to give to a guy who has everything. Okay so lets try looking at it this way then. A person is only as rich as what he can do for someone else. So some rich people are very lonely and are so tied up in investments that have gone bad right now that they are trapped in a miserable prison of their and society's making. So here is somebody who has everything and yet has nothing. He begins to realize that all his stuff most of it is just stuff and it breaks and decays and the final end he will be left with absolutely nothing. And all that stuff and responsibility is can just add more and more stress until he secretly begins to hate it after awhile and there might even be part of him that grows to hate it after awhile. He may secretly dream of watching all go up in flames. All of is real friends and family could be gone or maybe they've changed into something else. He is isolated by this protected world to the point that he can't even talk to the people he really cares about. People stop seeing him as a person really. They see him as an object that they can get things from. He may not even be there because he wants to be. He may be like you and someone said you have to do this for your friends and family. He is beyond miserable and yet he still keeps fighting everyday and never says a word. Constantly backstabbed and used and yet he gets up every morning and takes up his responsibility.  Surrounded by vampires and not a real friend in sight? No one he can trust.What do you think is going to happen to him after awhile? This is why I believe in some of the richest parts of the world that the suicide rate is highest. Many of the people that I have known that are rich they end up dying of something like Alzheimers because the stress just becomes too much for their brain.

Then there is the normal guy. No one wants anything from him because he doesn't have anything. He is still enslaved in some ways and yet he is free in others. If he gave this rich guy some friendship with no strings attached then that would be a great form of charity.  It would be priceless to this rich guy who is in a sense "starving" and just needs to be "fed."

It's not enough to just have a revolution it will all just turn back into the same thing all over again.  People have to change from the inside for the change to be permanent. They have to realize that they are doing the wrong thing and they must have a desire to fix it. So we have to help the rich too. I know many are intelligent and informed. But we all get caught up in our little tide pool realities and we forget to look out at the ocean until a friendly fish says  "I know your hungry here is some food over here in this other tide pool. "

The good, the fat and the ugly.

You know I was thinking about Fat and Ugly. Fat and Ugly.  They are just words that we use to describe something to categorize and organize thoughts hopefully in our minds  We are not attracted to certain things that are "ugly."  Our friends, the TV,  and society they assign certain values to ugly. And we know that now we must exclude this thing or person because they are ugly. But there is socially accepted ugly and even though are told that we should avoid this thing this person we morally must  accept this this repulsive thing with open arms. Now we have what is known as a complex and also contradicting ideas in our mind that we can't resolve. Fat means something that has excess extra, more than it usually should. Expanding beyond the bounds of normal parameters. It also talk the literal weird fluid fat that collects around our waste line.Also the word "Fat"  has ideas connected to it. It has lots of pain and regret connected to it and a weird morality I think, and bits and pieces of philosophy stuck in here and there, as can Ugly.

 Marque De Sade believed that ugliness was a form of complex beauty. As a man gets older and more sophisticated he likes the little wrinkles the battles scars on a woman. He enjoys hearing her bitch about something in the grocery store, the annoying rattly tone in voice. The truly illuminated realizes that "God" is in all and all have a certain awe and wonder. The dog poop on this ground that we step in gets moved across the field by our foot to fertilize and inspire the future life force that grows out of the dirty bacteria infested ground that gives us plant life and feeds us. It doesn't take long for the intelligent mind to grasp the beauty of it all.

But to understand things like fat and ugly we talk about AVERAGE You rarely hear the term average. Oh he's so very amazingly AVERAGE.  You  hear attractive and ugly, fat and skinny, but oh he was top in his class at being AVERAGE, you don't hear that.

Average and medium apply to what is midway between extremes and imply both sufficiency and lack of distinction.

 It's funny because many seem to want to be AVERAGE  and just kind of blend. They admire that and they work very hard to hide in plain sight like it's royalty. Just wanting to move around like a poorly  camouflaged army jeep from the 70's. Some strive for that normal blandness. They often sacrifice everything for it.

Now we see that in the new majority the black people where it was the white people that kind of blandness develop. That generic normality creeping in only much bigger and even more devastating. The  hip hop generic sleepiness that was just so cool to some. The white's were like Leave It to Beaver 50's crap. But now the AVERAGE game has changed.

There is such comfort in that isn't there? That big down blanket of normalizers slowly smothering us to death. But in these terms it's funny as normal must become excluded and alienated again in these terms and therefore normal here is the freak.

So  a guy was fat and he got persecuted. So now he is skinny. But deep down in his mind he's still fat. So now he gets upset when he sees a fat guy because it brings back bad memories and he's afraid. He's afraid he'll end up fat again. And he is confronting his former self which he is still fighting. So he sees this fat guy and the fat guy buys a candy bar and deep down he wants the candy bar and so he gets pissed off because it feels like a knife blade dragged against his belly and then to top it off the fat guy says something rude like,

"Would you please get off my foot."

So he ends up punching the fat guy after a whole game of mental "You sunk my battleship." But deep down he is really just punching himself and it will hurt him twice as much.

Then he hates the fat guy more because he feels bad not just one level but several different levels. But he can't feel that way, even though he does. He apologizes for being an idiot but deep down he feels that way.

So when he sees the fat guy he judges the fat guy that could have a chronic disease that makes him fat, he's also judging his former fat self and also he probably feels guilt over his new skinny self. This is a lot for a guy who's favorite past time is too watch football and drink a beer and he still has to pay the bills and go to work and try to have an average normal life.

All this crap connected to a word or an image. You can replace the word fat with drug addict or atheist, repdemonacrat or whatever your having problems with this week.

And you can have family also do this also.

" Oh don't eat that honey you don't want to look like your Aunt Sue."

And so then this family member dies or leaves and that memory is still there and so every where she goes she is haunted by this memory this ghost that tells her I am calling to you from beyond and to let you know that if you eat that cheesecake it's going to go right to hips. I the ghost Xmas's gone terribly awfully wrong declare  that you will look like a bleached beached whale before nightfall if you even think of touching that Pumpkin Roll.

So we rob ourselves of the joy of it all.

And now we can't enjoy being fat and we can't enjoy being skinny so we go to the doctor in search of Prozac and Valium to kill off that ghost in our head.



Fortunately there is a wonderful cure and curse for this. It's called middle age. It is a  strange and wondrous mystical time where you do just kind of fade in the background like a nymph or a sprite. I mean you can still yell and people will look at you but from now on your the loud old guy. You can be fat or skinny or ugly whatever and it don't matter because your the old guy. Now you may think this is a bad thing but actually it can be quite pleasant. I try because I want to but I don't really have to and that's  a good and a pleasant feeling. You can just about get away almost with murder when you are an old man if you know how to play the suit. But deep down you will always feel 17 even if some of the parts don't work quite the same.

Uh so you say I point it up for safety sake?

Hello...Hello...is this thing on? Shaka shock. Shaka Kowsky. Mike works. Well I didn't mean to start a blog just talkin to a friend and this may be the last blog I write. I dunno but well here we are.  Might as well get in to some good old fashioned ranting and piss some people off.s

So what about these people that thinks the world owes them a living? They've done nothing it seems but take up precious space but they think it's perfectly fine to glut up the gravy most of them get fat over thirty five while they laugh at the starving. Not that beautiful fat either. I mean the bacon grease fat. The barbecued chips fat.  If I had a nickel for every cancer ridden, bacon  grease mother slappin, crab infested, sour grapes,  poor excuse for a female that ruined my other chances with real women just so she could have the chance to take up space on my couch all day and sweat grease.  Hmm...I got a pile of crap in this hand to eat or nothing in the other. I think I'll grab some soap with my other hand and wash my hands of them all. I've settled for the wrong person before just to a have a modicum of normal well adjusted life. I stay alone you vat toxic chemical and harbinger of vile corrosive fumes. You narcistissistic disorder of a plague to future man. I won't do that again. Put those pigs in the pen where they belong. Oooh baby let me get lost in the rolls of your sweaty stinky layers of skin. An onion you ain't. Disgusting.