what has happened? we will never never know. according to my bank account i am a poor man. and by poverty i mean i cannot afford the peace of mind a man deserved. peace of what? it is more like a war of mind.
this is the existence of the entrepreneur? this is not larry lipman style now, is it. but of course focusing on the negativity like that has never helped anyone.
but who has ever helped anyone. mother theresa comes to mind and i am sure she has. helped herself to a better state of mind. peace of mind, perhaps, perhaps not.
the financial security is just also there for this absence of fear, the freedom from it? who knows.
a man getting paid £1080 and hour in this motherfucking city. it is highly problematic and has never been like that. the hope is fading my brother and i don't like it.
so what are you going to do about it? you pay the therapist and they take another £160 just to make you feel a bit less raped. raped in the ass. and unworthy. and resposible for this complete fucking mess that was nothing but a consequence of a a fucked up life full of good intentions and weak faith. what can you do. start the prayers, i suppose?
Hunger taps against our inner resistance systems. It diminishes our honesty. We sneak and cheat and nibble the meat. Then we burst into the open for everyone to see, and make bombastic proclamations about religion, faith, and steadfastness of character. We greet the stranger on the street. We drop a coin in the panhandler's tattered cup. We smile and wave to the camera, and sign autographs on our "Be A Good Man" book (now in stores everywhere). Then there is that inner tapping. Subtle. Faint. Growing. We look around for a place to retreat. Our face takes on a slighted frown. We are no longer so high up. We're slowly coming down. The faces still smile at us and affirm our public testimony. But now we are scrambling to avoid their eyes. We are hiding in a corner drinking creamy beverages and cramming our mouth with salty fries.
Blank. My whole mind is blank. It must be from hours spent in the office pretending to work when I really want to be doing something else, but what else? What else should I be doing? Something important, something meaningful, something more than just sitting on the couch watching one PBS show after another and pretending I will one day take that trip to England and tour every little town and village and learn the history of it all. For what purpose? Just to do it? Why can't I have a simple path? Know exactly what I want to do with my life and then just do it. Why is there doubt? Does this mean my fate isn't formed yet? Or is it in constant flux? I guess I don't have a blank mind after all...it is more like a bubbling pot of water right before the bubbles break the surface. It looks blank and calm, but any moment now the questions and queries will bubble up and break the calm and boil over until I rush to turn the heat off and go back to the flat even surface where I wasn't in danger of being burnt alive. Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but I do have a burn on my pinkie.
He opened his eyes early that morning ready to go. Today would be his big day, the one that would make him special, the one that would get him the promotion he'd been waiting for. He jumped in the shower, got dressed, swallowed his breakfast then burst out the door and roared off to work way faster than usual. This was the day he would make their head swim, win the prize, shine high above his workmates, this was the day he was going to end up being truly somebody...The sun shone, He slide easily into an open parking spot thanking God for making it available. He rode the elevator to floor 74, its door opened. He stepped out smiling. He had the world by the tail and he knew it...and then the plane hit. And the world changed forever.
The King of everything trot's his way thru the neighborhood. Stopping to smell various corner of buildings and bushes. The king of everything trot's with his nose in the air...sticking so far up toward the scent of the road, he doesn't notice the sharp shards of clear glass on the side walk. The king walks over the glass unharmed and unfazed. The King of Everything flexes on his hunches ready to pounce on the peasants on their tethered straps of varying materials, lead as slaves are so cruelly lead. The King of Everything sees the bright green tennis ball in the middle of the basket ball court, the King makes his dash at full speed to snatch up the ball.