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?
So when no one looking this guy goes to Mars...oh not the Mars you think the one in the galaxy way out there someplace...he goes to Mars, Iowa but being the kind of guy he was it didn't matter that his Mars was in Iowa, cause this guy was out there, be it the real Mars or the Mars in Iowa. I mean when you talked to this guy you knew he was someplace else...he mumbled and stumbled over his words like he couldn't talk and then he'd speed talk in a way you couldn't understand anyway...so this guy in Iowa, Mars, Iowa that is had to put address on a form saying where he lived and he put Mars and the clerk said I don't believer you and he said in so many words no one could understand that it was true. He lived on Mars. Dam said the lady...what's the zip code?
So there's a knock on the door. It's three wise men. They say hey lady we're here to pick up your kid...he's going to be the next Dalai lama and woman, the mother of the kid says, no you're not. My kid aint going nowhere, let alone someplace to be the Dalai Lama. Can't help it lady all the signs point to right here this house you people this boy. He's the next Dalai Lama like it or not. Albert, the woman yells out to someone at the back of house. Some people her saying Ned's going to be the next Dalai Lama. A voice from the back of the house yells back. Tell em they're dreamin. You're dreamin the woman tells the 3 wise men...and shuts the door in their face. Ned she yells, time for dinner!
Two guys standing across from each pointing guns at each other one of them saying I want peace so I'm going to kill you and other guy says hey me too I want peace so I'm going to kill you first, then a little bird drops into the frame and says hey you guys are nuts, you're setting up a stupid situation in which only thing accomplished is a lot of shot dead people...forever and ever.
Stack the teeter tottering commerce packages. Reduce the neon fever fantasy. Awaken drunk from midnight beverage choices. Happy people flood the commerce store. Sad people sleep in late to resist the waining morgue. I see mothers without their lovers. I see women without their grandkids. I see men too old to wed. They're all flooding the commerce store. Aching backs cause bad posture. Enthusiasm for one's daughters. Crinkled papers mock the lever. Just because it rhymes doesn't mean it's clever. I hate this sludge that lames my thoughts. I hate this fog that mocks my gods. I hate this angst that drugs my muses. Inconsiderate spirits, boozing floozies. I just want a room to write my stories. Someplace alone that opens early mornings.