i just can't help it

none of us can. it's beyond anything we can do to resist. life has a momentum that only a superhero could combat, but still we try. there is a quality to everything that is more than foul. there is a word for it...shit.

but, there is humor too, bits of laughter mixed in with the ongoing tragedy. yesterday, n began to cry in class. his reason? the beatles guru, an indian fellow who charged 2,500 dollars for his services, died recently at the age of 91. n eventually recovered, and was able to rejoin the class after a short while. by the way, n's last name is tierce. his tierce flowed like wine. in fact, the tracks of his tierce left a trail for others to follow. and when he eventually got home, he cried tierce on his pillow.

i can't get used to reality. my fantasies are so much better. of course, if they became real, they would suck too. like work. you always imagine an occupation that fulfills you, but you never find one that does. the jobs you used to do look better in retrospect, but while you were doing them, they were as bad as the rest. memories are misty recollections. your imagination sprinkles in with truth, creating a collection of half truths which are superior to the real. in the end, none of us want to acknowledge the fuck head existence we are forced to live.

you remember the good stuff, or the dramatic. the times when you made people laugh. i remember when i threw computers down the stairs of my high school, but that was only about 20 seconds of the 4 years i spent there. the spectacular special times satisfy us, not the other stuff. no one wants to admit that life is an endless series of boring, monotonous repetitions.

so, we remain stuck in neutral. sometimes i think of a new gig, but whose to say it wouldn't be worse than the one i have now? it probably would. will it be hillary or obama, mccain or romney? i know one thing, i certainly don't heart huckabee. what choices are there? well, when you go into a supermarket, there are 8 different kinds of oreo cookies, and that doesn't even count bill cosby. there are dozens of cereals, and two major political parties. as gore (not al) vidal said "political thinking in the u.s. runs from conservatism to fascism." the conservative end is thought to be liberal, or far left, and the fascist end thought to be conservative. true progressivism? no voice at all. maybe on your local cable access channel, or standing on a street corner rambling about the system. and we wonder why people turn to terrorism.

we live in a world that does not listen to reason. truth has no power, and fiction rules over fact. in fact, fiction is seen as fact. reality is what we say it is. we're a winner, is the impressions i get from the song we sing. it's all right? no, it isn't. people get ready, for my train of thought is coming to tear down this mess. they keep on pushin this crap on us. once they even sent a gypsy woman to my door step to explain it to me. she said amen and spoke of the lord, who was vacationing in the hamptons with their lionel ritchie friends, and with costanza's in laws. i fought the in laws and the in laws won, but in the rematch i fought them to a ty and ty law won, so i got my lawyer milloy who got a verdict in my favor. richard told me he would like to seymour trials like mine. in fact, he told me that mitchell silver was sitting on top of a michael gold mine, and since there were still some jews without money, he thought he should get up and let people share the wealth. these eyes couldn't believe the people who were sonny and cher-ing the land. there were even american women on harold land, and the fox was there too, as well as pony poindexter. the land had great sax appeal, but unfortunately, i had been clifford brown so long that the strumpet didn't want to blow me anymore, and she decided to service grant green instead. that left me with a plethora of idle moments, which was not solid. ah, there is enough bull in this blog to satisfy a matador. just thought i'd throw that latin bit in. i hope you are feelin the spirit of what i'm trying to do.

don't be green with envy.

while i grant you that there are those with moore than us, like archie and johnny, there are others with less.

well, in a flash,
gordon says,
goodbye.