12 Stitches

Irreversibly debilitated by the redundancy in modern devolution. Is it all that all elucidation is so moronically clichéd that it has emerged as purely the folly of the sadist. Redemption is never a forlorn hope. The arduous inquest of whether we should help the chumps or mock them is disorientating, like waking up on a bathroom floor, the walls plastered in your blood. Triumph is readily achieved, its only a function of your own perception.

Crazy/Hot

Last night I met an interesting character, a story of tragic beauty, her fateful story seemed so prevalent and derivative, developing into some sordid social commentary. So naive, so worried and so stupid. Talking with alcohol induced confidence to a curious soul, of her ex partner whom she portrayed clear and well justified animosity, yet spoke of love. Fragments of dissuasion were exchanged, all the while she sustained dialogue with her ex-partner via the mobile phone, at a rate upwards of 5 messages a minute, interspersed with scant phone calls throughout the night.

She poured more vodka and sugar drink into her near perfect 20 year old frame, rare brand cigarette in mouth as she reached for the incendiary device with child like hands. Oblivious to the affection of the male company in the room. Arising on occasion to dance to contemporary hip hop with her female companions, dancing did not hinder her frenzied text message exchanges. As the night wore on she expressed concern of fatigue, which she swiftly dispatched with the deliverance of dexamphetamine retrieved from a ball of tinfoil in her oversized designer handbag. She talked of courtship, loyalty and the inability of controlling your own emotions, delivered with the diction of a high school student, lack of vocabulary substituted with obscenity, lack of logic substituted with a fitted leopard skin dress. The best friends repeatedly told her to escape her perpetual dependency on the failed relationship, to which she agreed with the conviction of a disinterested Siamese cat. As cessation of the evening set in, dancing, lustful advances and dialogue decreased. When she finally abdicated the location, it was in the ex's car. Her phone can now rest.

Smashed

Another grandmother aged 80+ beaten to death in her own home, perpetrator young male, released on bail. Young mother drowns her baby because it wouldn't stop crying. Such stories, reported daily on every news source. The talkback channels lighting up, capturing considerable space in the "letters to the editor" of the daily paper.

All the people in your circle will be raving about the latest one tomorrow. Speaking masochistically of the abhorrent despondent details, longing in the nostalgic hope of a return to some "pure" justice they believe existed in the past. They stand there, they talk. They just stand there. Has it become that discussing such matters, is akin to talking about the weather? something we do when there is nothing to say, something that qualifies as small talk. They just continue to watch the record spin and spin, describing to each other how the needle is broken and the music won't play properly, they never even consider smashing the whole record player against the wall.

When the government fails to represent the publics interest. It is the peoples duty to tear the defective components from the system as you would tear weeds from a garden. This doesn't mean marching down the streets with banners and face paint like some dressed up cattle for an agricultural show. It means stop blaming, waiting, bitching about the problems around us, and go fix them yourself.

Whisper

Awoken by the sounds of the pretty people talking at high volume, their volume and projection do a near perfect job of covering the lack of substance. Show a smile with the utmost neutrality, nod politely and remember that its wise to listen to them talk, just don't believe a word. Like a melodic guitar solo enhances the significance of lyrics, you can detect identical processes taking place, stratocasters substituted by the physical attractiveness and confident body language of the pretty ones. Take your eyes off the rack, off the short skirt, off the Katy Perry hair style and everything you hear becomes rather hollow. 


Being a big talker doesn't help, strong hits watered down by the weak ones, its a game of averages. Project an image of comfort, success and pleasure if you long for it to get heaped upon you. Its not about communicating with others, its all about what you want to do.


Don't feel bad to speak softly or not at all, you can have as much or as little control as you wish

Don't Watch the News

All entities have an agenda, everyone you meet, everything you watch, has residing within itself a purpose, a goal, not always known or understood by the orator. The aptly named "news" you read, watch or stream, most certainly has one, what is it? Like most things you will ponder in your existence, with thoughts fluttering around your head like ash in the wind, as you waste time trying to attain comprehension. The answer ends up being simple, concise and so vexatiously conspicuous.

Contemporary news sources are not hard to be apprised of that which is omnipresent; fear, destruction, disunity, suffering et cetera. Inhaled via the eyes, coughed out in tears. It hurts, the mind is debased, it no longer functions in such a state of fear and confusion. The mind's only desire it to alleviated of the condition, its ripe for a raping!

Cue the manipulation machine, commence roll out of the elixir, the weakened mind will accept the irrational answers. Install more cameras in our homes, intercept all correspondence, increase security in lieu of freedom. That is the formula, simpler than a 1st grade mathematical query. Scare the fools and they will obey your every command. Rinse and repeat, and watch men morph into mud.

Its time to cease watching others for information, and to start recapturing your own!

Distraction

I sit outside in the falling temperature, alone of an evening. pondering my next mission, whether to dine upon Kentucky Fried Chicken or Hungry Jacks in the morrow. One opens at 10am, one at 5. This is my primary thoughts. Nothing else to think about, I don't want to think, It is always false, am I winning....... or losing......, it doesn't matter.. KFC!! Outstanding, I blocked the thought again.

Everything is a metaphor, In the literal sense I'm not outside, in the cold or alone, I'm in the food hall of the shopping centre, but these feelings are more vivid than when I last sat outside, cold and alone. Engage distraction! buy the spicy chicken, thank the kid serving me, oblivious to his to own destitute. secondary distraction, Skill!! Take a seat in the arena of four seat tables with only one occupant. They stare into their phones, newspapers or passing youth. So tragic, so alone, I pity them, as I sit, alone, on a four seat table, pull out my phone and write this..........

Control

Desist in your procrastination of the insignificant desires. There is no justifiable reasoning for the delay. Many are blinded by the overwhelming light of reality, digging irreversibly into your mind, remnant of third degree burns on a child. They are the dumb, mostly entranced by the myths of others, thereupon floundering their ultimate inadvertent prospects. Don't become like them, because every aspect of your reality, is your own, and you can control it!