Bogus Lies (and) Ordinary Greatness
I started, what I call, articlulate writing years and years ago. Some of it was free associate writing, automatic writing, or what ever you chose to call it. It was, and still is, a fun outlet for me. Some of it, no one has ever read before. A lot of it .... maybe nobody should...
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
S A V I N G A B R E A K
I once wrote an article that was really magnanimous. Well, actually that is only a half-truth. I once had an idea for an article that would have been great to write down. But I didn't happen to have a pen handy at the time, so I forgot about it. So bare along with the bad articles, hopefully I will get lucky again. And don't totally dismiss that possibility! They say it happens in threes, and I figure that’s probably what it would take that for you to be able to see a good article by me in the future. With nothing else on my mind at the moment (which someone once told me was very common with me, but I don't know if it's true… I try not to think about it), I may as well trace the lucky breaks needed for a good article to appear on these pages.
The first lucky break is for me to come up with a good thought, a good concept for an article. Now that may sound like a miracle, but without getting biblical on you, lets just say that God moves in mysterious ways. The original thought or concept is, naturally, the first step that must take place for any good piece of writing. For me this lucky break has already taken place, but it just so happened that I didn't get another lucky break along with it, like having a pen near by at that brief moment of impossibility, so I could write it down. So the two lucky breaks for any good article to be able to come about are 1) The thought, and 2) To have pen in hand.
Since everyone has three lucky breaks to a lifetime and I have used one up, I still have two left. So at some unforeseeable date I just may come up with a good article. Chances might be quite good! – Although I don't usually like to bring chance into these scientific matters.
But wait a minute! Even though I still have two lucky breaks left and there are only two to choose from it doesn't necessarily mean that they will both come at the same fraction of second in time (my attention span). And who is to say that, even though there are only two breaks to choose from and that I have two left, they will be one of each of the possibilities? Why couldn't it happen to be two of the same? It doesn't seem possible that my brain could come up with two more significant thoughts in my lifetime, but if it did it would use up my last two lucky breaks without anyone else witnessing the tremendous feat by way of an unqualified article coming about.
Wait another minute! On second thought (not a significant one), I have already used my lucky breaks up. Remember, lucky break number two is to have a pen in hand. I have had a pen in hand many times!... To think that I wasted all those lucky breaks by having a pen in hand when I didn't have any significant thoughts at the time, like now, so that I could write down something half intelligent. Why can't I get two lucky breaks at once? That still might not help, I don't see what good it would do to have two pens at once…
What is wrong with me? God was good enough to surpass my lucky break quota past the usual three, and I wasted possibly all I will ever get on the pen in hand lucky break. Talk about dopes!
Come to think of it, maybe if I wasn't such a dummy I wouldn't have had all the extra lucky breaks, because, after all, they say God is merciful to those less fortunate (a nice term for dummies). So possibly it would be unwise for me to get a significant thought because that might take me right out of God's less fortunate category and blow any more extra lucky breaks that God has lined up for me. So remember, even though the writing may not be that good, at least it does fill the pages. If I started getting good, then the lucky breaks would end and I would stop writing. That may sound favorable, but just think of the damage I might do if I didn't spend all most all my time sitting at a desk, writing.
Things usually work out for the best.
Thinking (insignificantly) of you,
P.S: I haven't been able to find
my pen for a while now,
so I'm writing this p.s.
in blood . . .
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
E A T L I G H T
"Let there be light!"
I switched on the light. The room glowed with a white warmth as my eyes adjusted to the sudden brilliance, that nearly matched the glow in my heart.
But what is light? Oh, sure it travels at approximately 299,793 kilometers per second, but what is this speedy thing we call light? Is it glass, from the bulbs that glow with light? No, a glass bulb alone doesn't do the trick, it has to be in a socket and turned on so that electricity flows through it. Then light is electricity! No, you can have light without electricity, just look at the sun, or light a match. Fire needs no electricity, yet gives off light. But what do a light bulb, fire and the sun all have in common? Heat! So heat is light. But is it really? Human flesh is warm, but is it light. It must take a certain minimum temperature for objects to radiate with light. But does it radiate or come in waves? It was long believed to be waves, as an electromagnetic disturbance, propagated through the electromagnetic field. But Einstein came along and theorized that light is not waves of varying lengths but photons of varying energies. Each theory has its advantages and drawbacks. Most likely it is some unforeseen combination of the two. We would not be too far off to say that light radiates out from its source whether it's in the form of waves or photons.
The sun radiates. Light bulbs radiate. Fire radiates.
Yes, radiation fills the air. Heat is a form of radiation. Light is a form of radiation. Energy is emitted by waves or particles by all these sources.
We breathe the air. Cattle and fish breathe air into their systems, which filters into their veins, which supplies nutrition to the muscles and the body. We eat the meat of these animals.
We breathe radiation, we eat radiation, and we live in radiation.
So? Radiation is a fact of life, what can we do about it?
I have previously mentioned the need for a campaign to stop breathing. "How?" I just heard you ask. "We'll die,” you say. Just read my past article "Bad Breath" for the clear-cut facts on the unnessecities of breathing. You will see, through a simple test, how ridiculous you have been all these years.
O.K., now you know it's possible to go without breathing. But you want to know why. Radiation is why. The radiation in the air is the reason you grow old. I also believe that this radiation, though some call it "mild", is deforming our children little by little. Radiation, any scientist will tell you, is what, most likely is the cause of evolution. But this evolution is not what they think. It is the reverse of what they are saying! De-evolution is being proven as I speak. Ask anyone if the generation that follows his is up to the old generation’s standards. We did not descend from monkeys but are descending to them. Did you see the classic "Planet of the Apes" for a look into the future? Do you listen to DEVO records all day? Then you, my friend, also know of the vast dangers of this dreadful radiation that is ruining all out lives. We shouldn't just rid ourselves of the Nuke plants but also the plants that are making oxygen, which are carriers of this dreadful radiation. It’s like being on a diet in a candy store. It's hard to keep from breathing when there is so much air all around. Just as we say smoking is bad for us yet the advertising still runs rampant and they are more available than vitamins. Let's get rid of the things around us that are harmful and tempting. Ban cigarettes, chocolate, booze and plants!
Some hard facts:
Did you know that five out of every seven mental retardation cases are caused by radiation?
Two or three hours of exposure to the sun can slow the process by which the eyes adapt to the dark by several hours. And two or three hours of lying on a sunny beach without protecting your eyes can temporarily reduce night vision by 50%. I bet this has something to do with radiation.
Radiation exposure can lead to cyclostomatous.
A radio signal could reach from Moscow to New York in less time than it takes a mothers voice to reach her children playing in the back yard, 40 feet away. Radio signal sound like it has something to do with radiation, so they probably move at comparable speeds. Do you want radiation reaching your kids before you do!?
Ninety-nine out of everyone hundred people who have worn underwear in the last four years will die a radiation related death.
Radiation will kill more people this year than last year.
These are just some of the hard to find facts of a radiation soaked society. Believe me, I could give you a list like this, right off the top of my head, all day long.
Death is common. No one as of yet has escaped it. What do all these people that have been dying have in common? They all breathe, or have, at one time in their life, taken, knowingly, a breath. See where breathing gets you? Breathing is for the dead.
I know that even though you have read my historic article "Bad Breath" and know that breathing is just a bad habit and can be stopped, you still say, "Well, I have to eat!" Because you know that all animals of earth are infected with this radiation from their breathing habits. Yes, animals are stupid enough to breath, they lack the reasoning power that human’s have at our disposal. But how can you expect any other animals to be smart enough to refrain from breathing when, up until now, man hasn't been smart enough to stop, and man is the smartest animal of all? Unless you count whales because they’re pretty smart – probably smarter than man. And unless you count dolphins, and dogs and ameba, we are at the top of the list for smartest creatures – at least on this planet.
How can you stop? What does it take to break some of these fifty habits?
Stopping breathing is easily, and I already covered that in an earlier article. “Bad Breath” makes clear the unnecessities of breathing and how to stop. To quickly summarize –– just don’t think about it.
But how about eating?
Don't eat. Wouldn't you rather die a simple starvation death or wait around a while to die an agony filled radiation death?
It’s a well-known fact (I know it very well) that quitting smoking is harder than quitting eating.
But, knowing that many of you out there are die-hard traditionalists, I have another solution. Eat fish and drink only distilled water. Fish is relatively safe from radiation. The air that fish breath is filtered by the water and has only l/l00th the radiation levels of the air and the animals above the surface. But please don't drink this water with the radiation filtered into it, drink distilled water.
One quick note about not breathing, make sure you have a strong heart. Many people already have tried to stop breathing and in their panic and stubborn refusal to give up outdated and disprovable beliefs they have suffered heart attacks. It works, but only if you believe with all your heart. Amen.
So, if you insist on eating, make sure it's fish. And if you still insist on breathing, make sure it's under water so that the air is filtered.
P.S: Some more helpful hints on the cautions of
1. Wash all fish with distilled water after bring
2. Don't let wines breathe before drinking.
3. Don't let yourself slip back into the breathing
4.Teach your children to stop breathing at a young
age, so they won’t grow up all soggy from the
5. If the doctor slaps your newborn to bring about her
first breath – slap him right back!
6. Remember to forget breathing every day.
7. Any sexual excursions should be done with nose
plugs and your mouth closed tight.
8. Tape the first 7 helpful hints to your forehead
so that people can remind you of them throughout
Friday, November 11, 2011
S E X C A N B E F U N
Hi! Yes, it's me again.
You may have seen articles from me in the past, unless you live in your attic and can't read (or are trying to make people believe that this is so). With such famed titles as "Off Key" and "Reason to Write" under my belt, I can't imagine anyone not having heard of me.
You may have seen them, but that doesn't mean you’ve read them. Maybe you won't even read this one. I have to admit that there are probably many people who have never seen my name or even know that I exist. I know that there are many people out there that spend the better part of their time watching "Charlie’s' Angels" reruns or locked in their cellar and may not come out often enough to keep in touch with the new and inspiring things that are going on in the outside world (like me). And sometimes I think that those are the only type of people who would enjoy reading anything by me.
I want my name to be known. After all, it's short and sweet, just six (count-um) letters. With a name like that, you have to read my material. Maybe it's up to me to go around unlocking cellar doors to gather my future readers. The key is locked securely in the safe.
But wait one second, okay, make it six seconds…
My name doesn't appear until the end of this article, so what's to hold the readers attention until they reach the end? After all, this just looks like any old article about politics, the latest tragedy, science, or something equally unimportant, and won't be recognized as a piece of art that everyone should read, until the end? Since most Homo sapiens in this Country read from top to bottom, they will come across my name last. So the chances of my getting read are not very… wait six seconds! The first thing that the average person reads is the title. So if I can make the title as exciting as the end I have it made! After all, the beginning and the end are the most important part of any work of art. What comes in-between is always just a bunch of meaningless words anyway (or aren't you familiar with my work?)
Since I have the best possible endings of all, my name, I must work on the title. I can fill the in-between with any ol’ garbage and it won't really matter as long as I find a catchy title.
"A good title is the title of a successful book."— Raymond Chandlek.
Take a look at the back jacket of almost any novel. It may sound exciting, but it rarely has anything to do with what's in the book. That's because the paragraphs found on the back of all books are written long before the book was even thought of. What happens is each year the publishers hire junior high students to write a paragraph on any thing that happens to come to their mind at the moment they put the pen in their hands. The paragraphs are stacked up in a storage room for later use. Then when one is needed for a book, they go into the pile and randomly draw one out. If you have never been in a publishing house then shut-up, I don't want to hear from you. If you have been in one then you have just never been in that room. You can understand that the publishers don't want you to see these rooms because you might stop reading what's on the back of their books and start reading what's inside of them. Then the publishers would really be in trouble!
"I like prefaces. I read them. Sometimes I do not read any further." — Malcolm Lowry.
So now that that is straightened away and my readers are truly enlightened, I'll get back to the title, or the lack of it. Of course, as you are reading this you wonder what all the fuss is about since you already know what the title is. But I, the writer, have no idea. Maybe, to give you the true feel of this article and what I am going through, I should put the title at the end. Therefore we will both become aware of the title at the same point in the article. It might be a wise ploy to keep you in suspense as you read through this, searching for the title.
The point of this whole article is how important the title is. The title was the device I wanted to use to get people to read this article so that they would come to the end, where my name shines and delights the average set of eyes that come across it. So even if putting the title at the end makes what's in-between more interesting and possibly even helps it to make sense, it's not worth sacrificing that eye-catching title. Who cares about what's in-between the title and the end anyway, right?
What's a catchy title? What are most people interested in today? What is one thing that all people have in common?
All people eat. Most people breathe. But is there any interest in these two categories? Sure, eating! Everyone is interested in eating-- whether it's fish, meat, or even vegetables – everyone does it, and almost everyone likes it. The trouble is, people would rather eat than read about it. So eating would not make a good title…
Then how about breathing? The trouble is that I don't want people reminded about breathing so they forget it and I can prove it's not necessary.* So to name it breathing or any thing that has to do with the intake of air would serve only to defeat a growing movement started by one of my previous articles… Just to make this article bold and exciting I would have to ruin a previous work and it would even make less sense. So I will not title it "Breathing", or anything that has to do with the intake of air into human lungs, so that all (?) of my readers will forget about breathing, and thus, prove to themselves that it is not necessary for life. Look at cars, walls, boats, and sidewalks-- do they breathe? No! There, my point is proved.
Do you see how senseless breathing is? Now forget about it! Now what was I leading up to before I took a breather? Well, let's just turn back a bit to look at the title to see ... oh yeaaah. It's funny how things work, you probably see a title there, but I still have no idea what it is, so I see none. I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this. Being kept in the dark is a state that I’m quite used to, yet it is usually not by choice. The suspense is killing me.
Maybe I should put a title in now so that I can refer back to it. I must make it as catchy as possible, leaving out anything that has to do with breathing, a herculean task – but I’m sure that I’m up to it.
P.S. Is the title as catchy as my name????????????????
*Read "Bad Breath" by me.*
JustinTIME More Sexual Harassment
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Funny Things: Like Rain, or Writing Mistakes (Like Too Long of Titles Which Take Up Two Lines, Instead of the Usual One Line, For Most Titles.) P.S: Three lines for a title are okay.
Rain is a funny thing.
What is rain? Be it beast, person, or mineral. Surely it is not living, but if this is so then why do we say “It’s raining cats and dogs,” and not ‘it’s raining like cats and dogs?” Of course these cats and dogs could be dead, and even if they were alive before their descent, I’m sure that would no longer be the case for long after a fall from a cloud to the impact with the ground. It’s a long fall… Yet, winter seems to come quick, and last long, but spring, unlike fall, or, I should say autumn…
Rain? Oh right, back to the subject…
Is rain good? Is it bad? Is it indifferent? Is it necessary? Is it wet?
If you faithfully answered, “Who cares” to the above questions, chances are that you won’t read on. So now all that I have to do is figure how many people are going to express that universally common, valid feeling, so that I can determine if I should go on writing. Read on. Right on. Write?
Well, let’s see. A quick review… I started off by saying that rain is a funny thing. That is a pretty catchy thing to start off with, but does it make sense? (I would rather make dollars than sense any day!) I mean, is rain really funny? Have you ever seen anyone looking out a window on a rainy afternoon and laughing hysterically? Has anyone even chuckled politely at rain? Has rain ever been a punch line? Well, actually I can picture a line for punch, especially if it’s spiked! But who would wait in line for rain? Would even being caught in a rainstorm without an umbrella make anyone giggle?
I bet not.
No, maybe I didn’t get off to such a good start… It isn’t good policy to start off and article with a false statement. It works much better if you slip them in somewhere in the middle. This isn’t political writing but I would at least like it to have the same semblance of deception.
So change the first sentence to “Rain isn’t a funny thing.” There! That’s true enough and still catchy enough to satisfy for an opening. It may not be brilliant, but remember that there aren’t too many who can squeeze water from rocks, and I would rather have rocks upstairs that a totally empty belfry. That would drive me bats!
Then I ended the first paragraph. Should have I have ended it? Yes, I think so; it’s complete by itself. Also I don’t want this article to be run down by long, tiring paragraphs, and especially long sentences which seem to drag on and on and on with no end in sight, making the reader’s eyes water, and wearing down, his or her, which ever the case may be, brain to a point where he or she, again – which ever the case may be – doesn’t feel like reading on, and the whole point is lost and the readers begin to wonder if maybe the keyboards period key is broken, or some possibility such as that, if they are tenacious enough to make it this far, which most people today have the attention span of a teensy-fly, so they probably baled out long ago and are now watching funny videos on You Tube of people falling down, which all tends to draw from the whole message the writer, me, is trying to make, even if it is a worthwhile cause. So I’ll try to stay away from that.
There are many writing problems. I come across them often enough. Because I write them down when I see other writers make them, I totally avoid them.
The worst mistake that I can think of is not necessarily the run-on sentence. The incomplete sentence can also very often get on a person’s nerves, and don’t think that for one minute, or maybe even two, that just because a sentence happens to be extremely long, seeming to run on and on forever with a deluge of words, like standing under a waterfall looking for a drink of water, turning the trusting reader blue without a chance to take a breath (which may actually be the most healthy thing for you). I promise to avoid them, too.
Another thing I try to do is to keep my printer heads clean so that the e’s and o’s are not all colored in. That can also be a great strain of the reader’s eyes. Yes sir, I really try to keep up with my e’s and o’s.
But I guess that as long as the article is interesting and makes sense with a strong ring of truth to it, that either warms his heart or conversely chills his soul, the reader can put up with a few extra long sentences, along with some extra short ones, and maybe even a few colored in spaces. As long as the piece in question draws a solid conclusion and doesn’t just sort of ramble on at the end as if the writer doesn’t exactly know how to end the article. Possibly because there was never any purpose to the whole mess and no final conclusion could be drawn from his work on a day when he really had nothing to say, you may know that I’m a fanfaron, but I don’t like to boast about it. You may feel embarrassed spending your time with no form of remuneration, trying to grasp the meanings of niggling prose scattered throughout. You feel especially obtuse if you went through the trouble of looking up some unmomentous words that he tossed about, because you felt left out in not knowing their meaning. You find no punch line at the end because the writer really had little to say throughout the whole mess of words except a few fragments of thoughts that he never really tied together. Tying ideas together is sometimes like tying your shoes, if the stings are weak, nothing’s going to hold. By the end it becomes obviously clear that these random thoughts could never possibly be joined in a conclusion understandable to anybody, especially the writer.
So as not to do any of the above mentioned I will end this article right here and now and leave you in awe of it.
. èim Uhr
South Central Rain England Rain?
Madonna Is your reign wet? When Wet --- Sing!
Drops ...and Mondays whatz dis bout?
Friday, October 14, 2011
A C C U S E D
Alone. I fight my way through the crowd. Loneliness engulfs my soul. Like a grain of sand that blows in the breeze, I, a speck of dust that blows amidst snowflakes. A star, buried in the soil. Fallen.
From the heavens to the sewer. From being free, to drowning in the muck of pity and self-loathing.
I, once a king of love, now watch my castles crumble – ginger bread, all. My heart eaten by the wicked tongue of deceit. Treachery ate at my bones like a cancer, weakening my resolve, distancing me from my feelings. I am the tree in the forest, strong and true, the one always expected to stand, plummeting to the ground with the most fury when I do fall. Crashing to the forest floor for all to hear.
I look at my surroundings, glancing through the crowd. All gathered to see my disgrace, coming here to jeer at me and mock me in my shame. But no, around me I only see a general contempt as I shove past unsuspecting ants, each in their own world with their own worries, and fears. . . and shames. No one has taken notice of my collapse from grace. At least not here. Here they only know me as another face in the crowd. A rude hand in the back as I push my way past. Rushing, always hurrying. Fast to the top, and fast down. Elevator down. Basement? I never knew there was a place so low. At my height I was only held up by a string, and now the cable has broke.
But no one here cares about my fall -- they're only worried about keeping their own lives level. Still... there is one who cares. If only she didn't love me, even after I have taken all her reasons to love me away. I ripped my love away from her, I tore her in half. Now she hates me. I can understand her hate, for I no longer see the thing in me for her to love. I think that all along I must have been fooling her, for there is nothing in me to love -- I doubt that there ever was. My insides are hollow, filled only with air. Breath can only be held for so long. I exhaled, collapsing -- my world fallen in on me, my insides, or lack there of, are exposed. It has been a trick of mine, pretending to be descent. I think that maybe she stills loves the memory of that trick.
I even imagine she would take me back. She loves scum, and I love a fool.
How can I go home to face her when I can't even look myself in the mirror? How can we act as if nothing's happened? How can I put her through the torture of seeing me day after day, knowing of my evilness? How can I face those eyes that will drill holes through my skull with a look of humiliation and betrayal?
I wish she could live without me, I know she would be better off, but I don't think that she's strong enough to turn me away. And God knows that I'm not resilient enough to walk away and have to start allover again. What would be the use? When a seed is rotten, it doesn't help to replant it in new soil. Its only salvation is to be thrown out.
I wish to be strong enough to face her, one last time, to tell her that I love her and that my errors are no reflection on her, but I know I am weak. Much too weak to face myself morning after morning. Much too fragile to take the pain.
But as my elevator of the inside has crashed to the basement of my soul, the "ding" tells me that I have reached the top floor in the "real" elevator.
From the elevator it's a quick exit out to where I can feel the wind at my face. I look down from the rooftop to see the ants below, the ants that I had, just minutes ago, fought my way through, the ones that looked at me indifferently, that didn't know my sins, that wouldn't have cared anyway. I long to make them recognize my pain by landing before their uncaring eyes, but I know that even as I lay at their feet, they will merely step over me, hurrying through their insignificant lives.
There is only one who will care.
There is only one who has cared. Only one who can be hurt by my erroneous ways. Only one brave enough to face the truth, still look me in the eye, and accept me for what I am. I know she careingly waits for me now. Patiently awaiting my return, even after she had every right to throw me out. My reaction to her discovery and confrontation only further proved my cowardice as I walked away without an explanation or apology. She never imagines the hurt that comes from loving me; she never sees it corning. For my truth is a horrible truth of lies and deceit. She gave me her heart, and I thoughtlessly broke it, and now on the edge of reality, the ledge of life, with the wind at my back, I plan to throw it away. Forever.
So to save pain, I will hurt her again. I know it will destroy her. She doesn't deserve to be hurt, and I don't deserve an easy release. The path of least resistance has always been the preferable way for me, and even now, as the wind coaxes me out over the ledge, it is the toughest thing I have ever done to step back.
"I'm home." I know that my shaky voice can be heard by one who was been waiting.
She enters the room after a moment. "So where have you been?" She looks at me with accusing eyes.
T h e E n d .
Thursday, September 29, 2011
B A D B R E A T H
Take a breath. Make it a deep, long breath ... Now try it without coughing. Do it again. And again. See that? I bet I got you to do that for the rest of your life now. Breathing is a habit that is hard to break, and now you're hooked!
Why do we breathe? I have my own theories.
Breathing is only done when bored. It's a fact. And I'll be the first to prove it. Now think about it, isn't that the only time you have noticed your breathing, when you're thinking about it? Most of the time you don't even think about breathing-- and that's because you're not! People just sit there with nothing to do and they happen to think about breathing, so they start. They take a deep breath, then another, and soon end up gasping for air. But that's only because they are thinking about it. You don't need it!
You can prove it for yourself. Now take your mind off breathing, totally. Think of something else, say… air, for example.
O.K. Ready? One, two three, four, fi… Now stop! Are you breathing? Oh yeah, sure, now you are, because you're thinking about it. But at that second, when your thoughts returned from that other thought to breathing, were you breathing? Think about it. No, of course you weren't. Because there is no need to breathe. It's psychological. It's all in your mind (which at least proves there's something up there amongst the cobwebs.)
I may go down in history for this great realization. This could be more important than my stand against the typewriter companies. I'll be labeled as a genius. Millions will come to hear me speak at Bingo tournaments. My name in all the history books. My picture in coloring books. I may even get an academy award!
Air is stupid anyway. You can’t convince me that it’s in water, because when you take a fish out of water and let him breathe pure air – he dies! So if there was air in water, it would kill him. Who needs it? H20. H20! H20? What a dumb way to spell water. Why can't those crazy scientists be like the rest of us and spell this normally? If the had to write it in symbols couldn't they have at least made it WeT2r. How come air has no chemical symbols, if it did would it be A1R? Where “A” would stand for airline exhaust and “R” would stand for Refried beans.
I guess the reason scientists call water H20 is because of the hydrogen and oxygen in it. Which is another reason I also believe drinking or bathing aren’t good. After all, who wants the impurities of air in the forms of hydrogen and oxygen creatures to climb all over them or even to enter into their system? I think the hydrogen creatures are more neutral in and upon the system – it’s definitely the oxygen creatures that are the worst. Just breathe once and, before you know it, you have millions of oxygen creatures crawling around inside you. The hydrogen creatures aren't quite as bad, they pretty well stay put. But you have to watch those little oxygen buggers, they're so restless! Oxygen creatures breed faster too…
It’s a new-age fallacy that we have to breath. You have all those gurus out there trying to teach you to breathe – that’s because you don’t – not unless you’re thinking about it. So many charge you to teach you how to breathe, I think it would be money better spent to learn how not to breathe. Free yourself from your unnecessary addictions!
When you weigh the validity of this axiom please do not consider the source, just try to pretend that someone half sane is putting forth this idea. Remember, as Don Marquis once said:
"An idea isn't responsible for the people who believe in it."
Changing the subject, without deferring far from the original idea of this article, I wanted to answer a common type of letter I'm always getting. People from all over the world write to me and complain (usually at the end of their long, complementary letter). I figure they suppose they must throw in one complaint, because if their letters were all complementary then they would seem false praise and not be taken sincerely. The one, and only, complaint by the adoring public is that my articles are always too serious. They are tired of crying and gnashing their teeth. It is said I should try to show the lighter side of my meaningful topics. Even though I take my writing very seriously, I think it is also important to comply with the wishes and whims of my readers even if it's something that I feel ruins the article.
So, in cooperation with the whims of my readers, in my never-ending attempt to be everything to everybody, I would like to cover not only the heavy, deep side of my topics, but also the lighter side. I would like to show that I can be light headed as well as hard. This is the first article I am to attempt this endeavor. If it goes well, and has a good response and makes me a lot of money, who knows, I may sellout many times in the future ...
So, on the lighter side of… hmmm. What was I talking about earlier? What was the purpose of this article? You don't remember either, huh? Or possibly you never knew! Well, let us just turn back a bit. No, I promise you don't have to reread it.
Oh yea! I was talking about air and all its advantages. So…!
On the lighter side of air -------------------------- Helium!
Thinking (lightly) of You,
P.S: HaH! I caught you not breathing again!
But, proving that you are a hopeless creature
of habit, I bet you started again as soon as I
brought it up again. This concludes another
one of my breathtaking articles .............................. gasp …
Saturday, September 24, 2011
BABBLING STREAM OF WORDS
It's raining out. Not really, but I feel like writing about rain again. Rain is a funny thing. Really! I've never thought about it before-- yes it's true I have written about it, but I didn't think about it -- but it really is. I may not stand on street corners watching the rain roll down my nose and laugh hysterically, but I do chuckle at it every now-and-then. My smile is my umbrella and the clouds are my raincoat (though I sometimes feel like the emperor in "The Emperor's New Clothes.") I have sunken so low at this point that when I sneeze it rains in China.
Even if it wasn't raining out (which it isn't) I could write about rain (which I am) and prove to everyone how diversified I am (here's your proof).
I am a great writer…
So good in the clutch…
A miracle worker say some…
When all seems to be lost, at that moment when the sky's at it's darkest, the breath comes in spurts, when the rabbit first awakens in the middle of the race, afraid to look ahead at the progress of the turtle as the sun sets behind him… a miracle occurs! The turtle, having taken a wrong turn, is calling from Toledo…
Miracles have saved many a fairy tail. Miracles have (believe it or not) supplied the Bible with many of its stories.
But what is a miracle?
I was planning on going on and on about how loosely the word miracle is used today. That how, at one time, a miracle could only be performed by God, and not the 2030 Cleveland Indians.
But who really cares?
I reached a point now where I have became sure that all the readers will find this all terribly boring. This is unusual, indeed. No, not that I have discovered this to be boring, but that I discovered it to be boring before the end is what is unusual. If I got bored even before writing it, why should I wish to succumb my readers to such misery?
Wentworth Dillon once said,
"Words once spoken, can never be recalled."
And that is true even with the written word, my readers don't recall what I've written seconds after reading it.
Believe me, this was not going to be one of my better pieces.
But it certainly isn't one of my worst, because at least this time, I had sense enough to stop my babbling.
Do you realize the countless other times I have babbled on without having the willpower to put down my pen and go to bed?
If there is a heaven, for my sake let's hope that God isn't a writing critic. I tell you it must have been a fool who said, "The ignorant are without sin!"
While preaching in my writing that ignorance is bliss, my critics, upon receiving my latest article, say "Oh no, the ignoramus is babbling again!"
If I weren’t so smart, I’d agree I was stupid. But if I’m as dumb as they all say, how come I’m not dumb enough to get caught up in believing that I’m not smart?
Just because no one understands what I’m saying it doesn’t mean that what I’m saying is of no importance. Mark Twain knows how I feel:
"In Paris they simply stared when I spoke to them in French;
I never did succeed in making those idiots understand their own language."
One person can look at a glass and remark that it’s half full. Meanwhile his friend comes into the room and drinks the glass of milk without ever noticing how full it was.
The second person may not be too observant, but at least he is unlikely to be malnutritioned.
That’s the whole point of life; Some people go through life taking note of unimportant trivialities calling themselves smart, while others go through life blind and fat. I strive for that middle ground, proving it can be reached by being the perfect combination, being skinny and dumb; while thinking I’m smart and well built.
Remember, everyone is someone else’s person. Isn’t everyone constantly trying to be like someone else’s version of themselves? Don’t you wish that just once you could please everyone at once? God knows I have tried many times. Even in my writing, after all isn’t it a little bit of everything and a lot of nothing?
O.K. I’II admit it, I’m no genius. But I’m not dumb! Average? No, I’m well above average. So what? – Most people are!
I am smart, but not a stand out. (There is a neat word play possibility with "stand out", "outstanding", and "out… standing in the rain," but I can't find it.)
I graduated at the bottom half of the top half of the class. Though I’m above average intelligence (at least that’s what I tell myself all the time), I was never given a chance to feel superior to anybody, or to gloat for even a little while. They made sure I was placed with students smarter than me, so I would spend my whole life at school feeling like a dummy. I never did anything to them. They must have just picked me out as one of the kids not to like from the start. It wasn’t anything I did. Honest.
I was born under the unusual sign of "take the pitch." So every single time, I just stand there watching that third strike float across the plate.
"Words of the wise" are just a dumbbells disguise. "People in the know" are 1% knowledge and 99% show. It’s true, no words make anyone wise, it’s thoughts and the diversities therein that breed genius. People who are really "in the know" know enough not to say so. There is always someone else who knows more on one subject or another. All it means is that the "public genius" is good at show, and has found his particular nitch.
There are numerous ways to use and abuse knowledge. Knowledge is a handy but sometimes dangerous tool, and can be used by the good or cruel, but is most deadly when it falls into the hand of the fool.
"Grace is given of God, but knowledge is bought in the market."—Arthur Hugh Clough.
So as clouds form in the sky to bring rain down upon the land, forming pools and eventually rivers that lead to oceans and lakes, that support and make possible the miracle of life in the form of fish which eventually will and has led to the development of land animals on a long string in the evolutionary process which leads to man, and which will, no doubt, someday lead right past him. So as the river flows past, so too babbling stream of words must also end.
Before I part (dry up) I would like to say one thing that does make sense. Of course it’s not from me, rather a quote from a man who knew how to make sense, even on Mondays and rainy days, Andrew Lang:
"He uses statistics as a drunken
man uses lampposts — for support
rather than illumination." –– Lang.
P.S. A drop of rain, a miracle?
… or the neighbors sprinkler? …