My distractors are distracting me from my focus on distractions which is making me distractable and so distractivly distracted.
Which is not to say they are not interesting, however they are still distractions.
Empirical sounds better, but has the wrong meaning.
Empire
b : something resembling a political empire; especially : an extensive territory or enterprise under single domination or control
m-w.com
The slow human spirit breaking begins with the tyrannical do as I say, not as I do.
Unintended lies soon follow.
The only reason one may possibly perceive that a child might not be able to handle the truth, is upon the reality, that it is the parent, who can’t handle the truth.
The slippery slope starts at the North Pole and from there, it’s all downhill.
One what?
For this, one letter.
At the end of a word.
Using an L instead of an R
As big as the difference between
Love and Resentment
Separated by
MNOPQ
Malignant
Narcissistic
Ornery
Perturbed
Questioner
Or
Mindful
Nurturing
Optimism
Peacefully
Quietude
Choosing between
Anger Management
And
Angel Management
Managing my Angel, would seem to be a lot easier, just because at this time there is less Angel to manage, then anger.
The “L” even lightens up the middle making it a soft “G”.
“Double Agent” Neil Peart “Rush”
//
‘On the edge of sleep, I heard voices behind the door
The known and the nameless, familiar and faceless
My angels and my demons at war’
At war…
‘Which one will lose depends on what I choose
Or maybe which voice I ignore…’
Wilderness of mirrors
Streets of cold desire
My precious sense of honor
Just a shield of rusty wire
I hold against the chaos
And the cross of holy fire
Wilderness of mirrors
So easy to deceive
My precious sense of rightness
Is sometimes so naive
So that which I imagine
Is that which I believe
‘On the edge of sleep, I awoke to a sun so bright
Rested and fearless, cheered by your nearness
I knew which direction was right’
Was right…
‘The case had been tried by the jury inside
The choice between darkness and light…
The choice between darkness and light’
This inspired a post on my other blog,
fivefingermantra.wordpress.com
Under “The Power of Words”
“Russians” by Sting from “The Dream of the Blue Turtles”
Seemed to be one of those songs that helped end the cold war. Wonder if the lyrics were revised into a palpable parody, it would affect any change?
Trumpisms
On coastal and inland America , there’s
Burgeoning apprehension of disturbia
Manifesting fears, and many threats
In hateful speeches of Trump and surrogates.
Trump and his kind said, “We will scare all of you.”
I didn’t vote for this pessimistic view.
It is such an arrogant thing to do
Since the PFLGBT love everyone too.
How can we save little girls and boys
from Oppenheimer’s deadly toys?
A tyrant tweeting, with unbridled petulance
Inside an oval office, behind the White house fence.
We share the same biology,
regardless of our geography.
Believe me when I say to you,
I’m sure the Mexicans love their children too
There is no historical precedent
Having racism gush from the mouth of the president.
No such thing as an unscalable wall,
If it is built, am quite sure it will fall.
Donald Trump says, “We will persecute you.”
Excessive narcissism skewes his view.
Believe me when I say to you,
I’m sure Muslims love their children too
We share the same biology,
regardless of any theology.
But what might save us, me and you,
Knowing African Americans love their children too
“Oppenheimer’s deadly toy” refers to the atomic bomb. Robert Oppenheimer was an American physicist who was considered “The father of the atomic bomb.”
He later regretted his creation, saying he intended it to be used for energy in peace time (source: “Russians by Sting Songfacts”).
Original lyrics
“Russians” out in 1985
Sting
Lyrics
In Europe and America there’s a growing feeling of hysteria.
Conditioned to respond to all the threats
In the rhetorical speeches of the Soviets.
MIster Krushchev said, “We will bury you.”
I don’t subscribe to this point of view.
It’d be such an ignorant thing to do
If the Russians love their children too.
How can I save my little boy from Oppenheimer’s deadly toy?
There is no monopoly on common sense
On either side of the political fence.
We share the same biology, regardless of ideology.
Believe me when I say to you,
I hope the Russians love their children too
There is no historical precedent
To put the words in the mouth of the president?
There’s no such thing as a winnable war,
It’s a lie we don’t believe anymore.
Mister Reagan says, “We will protect you.”
I don’t subscribe to this point of view.
Believe me when I say to you,
I hope the Russians love their children too
We share the same biology, regardless of ideology.
But what might save us, me and you,
Is if the Russians love their children too
Songwriters: Gordon Sumner / Serge Prokofieff
Russians lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Human Shields ?
Or “Safety in Numbers”
From Rush “Territories”
The whole wide world
An endless universe
Yet we keep looking through
The eyeglass in reverse
Don’t feed the people
But we feed the machines
Can’t really feel
What international means
In different circles, we keep holding our ground
Indifferent circles, we keep spinning round and round
We see so many tribes overrun and undermined
While their invaders dream of lands they’ve left behind
Better people…better food…and better beer…
Why move around the world when Eden was so near?
The bosses get talking so tough
And if that wasn’t evil enough
We get the drunken and passionate pride
Of the citizens along for the ride
Wouldn’t it stand to reason, to encourage lots of immigration of every citizen from all over the planet to not only immigrate to America, but all other countries as well?
Therefore, creating a situation where no location would be attacked because their “home” country would not want to circumstantially hurt their brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters?
Basically, becoming planetarily “borderless” (which, it is) so that every bi-pedal oxygen breathing, red-blooded, skeleton supported, carbon-based earth inhabitant, would have the willful freedom to become the best person they could be without living in fear and feeling compelled to intentionally or unintentionally teach their offspring that their differences not only, aren’t celebrated but have to be minimized and controlled .
Otherwise, what are we “really” doing here?
Nevermind, I just realized I fell asleep, listening to John Lennon’s “Imagine” on repeat on my I pod .
It’s easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people living for today
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people living life in peace, you
But I’m not the only one
I hope some day you’ll join us
And the world will be as one
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people sharing all the world, you
But I’m not the only one
I hope some day you’ll join us
And the world will be as one
Taking un-pride to a level worthy of negative egotism..
Making myself that martyred egotist.
Look, I am trying to be the best worthless person I can be. See, no pride.
The only thing that substantiates my “being” is my skeleton.
Beyond humility, for pride goeth before a fall, right?
To land in the untenable position of a doormat.
Or is it, that the meek shall inherit the earth?
Well, isn’t that just dandy? .
Doing nothing, (other than writing this blog) to be left with a smelly sphere, of toxicity ……. to inherit. Great.
How can I sign up twice for that??
Somewhere there must lie a balance.
Otherwise, dismissing everything you do, and are, as having no importance or value first convinces others, which only serve to be the hideous mirrored reflection you see of yourself.
Or is that. …myself?
Geez. I hate taking responsibility.
Now I have to go clean out and rearrange my psyche, in the bottom basement of biting bile and blatant bemoaning by blaming.
What a hoarding mess,
There’s racks of reticent rank resentment, behind an avalanche of acrid acerbic anger, next to the piles of pugnant perpetual perturbed pessimism.
Cracked crates of chaotic confusion, mounds of malignant mournful mistakes. Ewww, dusty, diatribes of disgusting deranged disasterous dead dialogue.
Tumbling tins of tumultuous tortured torment. Broken boxes of burgeoning befuddlement. Shards of sorrowful shattered shame stuffed surreptitiously into shadows.
Time to replace those heavy hunks of horrific hate with laudable layers of light and loveable laughter.
Organizing optimism of overt openess. Toting tidy toolboxes to build better bonds between beloved beings.
Sorting and savoring special sanguine surprises for specific special someones, supporting said sarcastic scribe, saving spirited sarcasm for special situations.
My how clean and bright it is in here now.
Just need (uh-oh) to keep an ample assortment of ampoules of anger to be released writing rather wittingly with wit while wrestling wrath warmly and wryly.
Based on layers of perception
I am.
I ????
Am ???
I, let’s start with that. What is I ?
This is really tough to examine with one eye on a telescope and the other on a microscope.
Being (I assume ) in the middle (50) optimistically.
I
: the person who is speaking or writing.
I’ve read or heard that every cell in your body is replaced every 7 to 11 years.
Some cells get replaced faster than others. skin, hair, digestive. Those go much quicker than bones and teeth.
Still, there is a complete replacement of every cell..
I have also heard it be said, that if you are shown an old photo, with you in it , and you are asked who it is, you will inadvertently (or subconsciously) point to where your heart is and declare, “that’s me”.
“Some guy handed me a picture and said, “Here is a picture of me when I was younger”….”Every picture of you, is when you were younger”….
Mitch Hedberg
.
No one, will point to their skull, and identify themselves as their brain. (Which is the biological control center over the arms and fingers to make that gesture in the first place. ) hmmm.
So where is the I, if you are past the age of 12, there is nothing that you are now that is a part of your being that was here 11 years ago. ?
“There’s a time to live and a time to die. But isn’t it strange, that as soon as you’re born you’re dying.”
Steve Harris “The Clairvoyant”
Iron Maiden
Back to the research,…
This really doesn’t go anywhere, guess I’m just trying to figure out who I am…
Am I the “I”, I see in the mirror? Can’t be, that I is two dimensional and as hard as glass. Not to mention, everything is backwards.
Whatever that “I” is, is also the outcome of the balance of nature and nurture, geography and language. Beliefs, discovered or indoctrinated.
There is irony for you, “indoctrinated beliefs”. That essentially means the “I” is “taught”, how to “feel”.
Hmmm, the original “I” is gone after 11 years. Leaving whatever is left, to cling to (or perhaps not) what it has been instructed to “feel”. Which is constantly decaying and regenerating.
If it’s being removed and replaced, it must weigh something, must have substance. Is it gone in outer space, where the “I” would, without gravity be weightless?
.
With that.
am
present 1st singular of be
be
—used to describe the qualities of a person or thing
Oh shit, here we go again.
Apparently, all the dictionaries and definitions are not going to describe to me, who I am.
I am confused.
From a dark dystopian movie
“1984”
Starring John Hurt, Richard Burton
Killer soundtrack by Eurythmics
There it was, it was kinda late, 11:00, other restaurants were closed or closing. IHOP, Panda Express, the kinds, near hotels.
My wife and I, took a quick trip out of town. About 100 miles from home to a not so big, “big” city. Big enough to support those chain like franchises.
Not sure if we traveled 100 miles out of town, or entered the “Twilight Zone”.
Walking, near our hotel, saw the lights on at another restaurant, with plenty of cars still in the parking lot.
“Hooters”. Plusgood, not too hungry, can order some appetizers and call it a night.
Entering the restaurant, it looked like, standing room only.
It was, we said to the host, we’ll have a couple of beers, and wait a few. To which she said. Oh, probably not, no one is leaving. Ungood. However, she had an idea, and would be right back.
Oh oh, should have left, but options were limited, and getting smaller.
DoublePlusUngood!
As a fairly decent observer, (if you don’t believe me, just ask me) (haha) here is what I saw and heard.
“The Scene” or at least the similarity.
A restaurant filled to capacity, TV screens on, all on one channel. Where usually in those sports bar type restaurants, the conversational chaos, is just above the noise of the TV’s.
Nope, not here, or now. Everyone was staring, saucer eyed, silent, and catatonicly at what easily could have been called tele-screens.
Verbal silence and disturbing stillness, held my rapt attention, foregoing what was on the TV’S, …looking for sound and movements to break the still, except for the waitresses that moved their way around the seemingly lifeless sedentary human sized cardboard cut outs.
All of a sudden some murmurs, grunts then cheers animated the docile mass of restaurant patrons. Looking to the screens now, saw what was captivating their attention.
A UFC undercard cage fight.
As “The Scene” before me represented the Orwellian “Two Minutes Hate” where the proletariat people could vent their life frustrations in a single organized collective it’s okay to release those emotions, so they could “deal” with the rest of their humdrum life.
Wait, it gets better.
The host returned to inform us, there was a gentleman, sitting alone in a booth for six, said it was okay for us to be there so we could sit and eat.
Might as well, we’re here. Ever friendly and way way way more social then myself, my wife tried to engage in a conversation with our table occupant as gesture of appreciation.
Found herself talking to a brick wall of unspoken robotic monotone ( I am engaged in this fever of my allotted time of emotion expressing towards the tele-screen, please don’t break that.)
As long as I’m putting words into his imaginary empty baloon of dull dialogue, here goes, (as soon as this two minutes, hate is over and I slug down my “Victory Gin”, I will be more than apathetic to speak with you comrades.)
I swear I am always on the lookout for progressive enlightening consciousness evolution, sad to say, this wasn’t it.
DoublePlusUngood
Voter Fraud
Electoral College, nearly ’nuff said.
Having a murky clear ( it had been pounded in your head) notion that although you have this queezy feeling that you know, absolutely, that your vote is completely meaningless, you still participate.
So do I, like below.
Hedging your bet, in a god like, Pascal’s wager, pull of the lever, that maybe, just maybe, the system is not corrupt, save a few isolated instances.(Florida 2000)
On a whim, with your fingers crossed, after rubbing a “lucky” rabbits foot while sitting in a patch of four leaf clovers.
That, if for no other reason, upon someone asking if you voted, you can honestly say, yes.
Because really, how much can “know” about what judge, to vote for? Or what the state auditor, actually does. Even decipher, the intricate legal language of an initiative? Where a yes, might not actually get you what you think you want.
One more, the coroner is an elected position. How is that, even a contested position? Ooh, pick me, so my job is looking at cadavers for two years.
Regardless the external world and deep down in my psyche, that I exercise my right to vote every day, (on a microscopic level) balance my budget, apologize when necessary and not necessary.
Be kind to strangers, allow them their “free” speech (by not interrupting and listen).
Not starting any “personal” wars, where people get hurt, because of my stubborn pig headedness.
Realize that if someone does “attack” me, it is because they are hurting, and are not acting necessarily with malice of forethought.
Which, if that is their intention, try to understand the depth of their pain. Go to work on healing wounds.
I’m running for the office of me being a better me, today, than yesterday.
Otherwise, nothing really changes, nor does it feel like it.
No administration is going to “make” me hate my co-riders on this little blue-green ride through the cosmos.
“Everybody Knows”
Leonard Cohen
Best covered by “Concrete Blond”
Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died
Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long-stem rose
//
And everybody knows that you’re in trouble
Everybody knows what you’ve been through
From the bloody cross on top of Calvary
To the beach of Malibu
Everybody knows it’s coming apart
Take one last look at this Sacred Heart
Before it blows
And everybody knows
Everybody knows, everybody knows
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows
Where’s Captain Obvious when you need him?
Or her? Don’t want to be as sexist as our Petulant Elect.
If love, “trumps” hate, why are the lovers, hating the haters?
Didn’t that one fellow, tell, suggest, or write, Love your enemies?
No time, like the present. That’s why it’s called a present.
Since the Trump followers need to be led, lead them toward kindness, forgiveness, compassion, empathy, and loving all the bipedal earthlings, regardless of race, gender, beliefs, height, weight, geography, xenophobia, politics, religion, etc.
“Confusion” Electric Light Orchestra
All around the world it’s shining.
But cold winds blow across your mind.
Confusion–it’s such a terrible shame.
Confusion–you don’t know what you’re sayin’.
Every night you’re out there darlin’.
You’re always out there runnin’.
And I see that lost look in your eyes.
Confusion,I don’t know what I should do.
Confusion,I leave it all up to you.
Dark is the road you wander.
And as you stand there under.
The starry sky,you feel sad inside.
Confusion,you know it’s drivin’ me wild.
Confusion,it comes as no big surprise.
Been haunted by a million screams
But I can hear the marching feet
They’re moving into the street.
Now did you read the news today
They say the danger’s gone away
But I can see the fire’s still alight
There burning into the night.
There’s too many men
Too many people
Making too many problems
And not much love to go round
Can’t you see
This is a land of confusion.
This is the world we live in
And these are the hands we’re given
Use them and let’s start trying
To make it a place worth living in.
Ooh Superman where are you now
When everything’s gone wrong somehow
The men of steel, the men of power
Are losing control by the hour.
This is the time
This is the place
So we look for the future
But there’s not much love to go round
Tell me why, this is a land of confusion.
This is the world we live in
And these are the hands we’re given
Use them and let’s start trying
To make it a place worth living in.
I remember long ago –
Ooh when the sun was shining
Yes and the stars were bright
All through the night
And the sound of your laughter
As I held you tight
So long ago –
I won’t be coming home tonight
My generation will put it right
We’re not just making promises
That we know, we’ll never keep.
Too many men
There’s too many people
Making too many problems
And not much love to go round
Can’t you see
This is a land of confusion.
Now this is the world we live in
And these are the hands we’re given
Use them and let’s start trying
To make it a place worth fighting for.
This is the world we live in
And these are the names we’re given
Stand up and let’s start showing
Just where our lives are going to.
Looking at the world through a windshield. 