091108 02:38
I have a "IN CASE OF EMERGENCY" do this, then that, and then kiss; whatever you consider you life to have been goodbye--this is the termination. . . .Endless ICE or fire or whatever.
To witness a friend, father, mother, son, daughter, enemy as friend, or failure to save, DNA, die is an honor beyond telling. Yet had I all the time in creation and all the grains of sand in the hour clock of that determination I can never be God. And so it follows that I love doctors, nurses, policemen and even criminals who define the issue of good versus bad in real time, flesh, blood: chance to save and fail that ideal.
Or enter the sublime and exquisite orgasm of Win-Win; the ultimate release of knowing you are out of control. The old yoke thrown off and away and a new burden assumed by two friends.
I have a problem--well that's BS: Big Time BS.
I often say, either privately and/or Publicly; "kiss your ass goodbye" and I laugh at myself seeing myself doing that to myself . . . and then laugh harder.
So much harder and I'll finally break my bones and become a jelly fish or faux person lifeless . . .
. . . or would you believe blow myself back up into what I was before laughing so hard. Sort of 'instant resurrection' just add warm water, take two aspirins and don't call me ever again.
Well you may ask why I am so very heretical, despicable, reprehensible, et cetera and not a very nice guy, or like the portrait of Jesus I often saw in Sunday Schools of my youth now abandoned . . . good God, good riddance!
There is no end to my love for those I've left behind striding towards God. And in that statement better understand that to confess and request forgiveness from the one I left in body but never heart, soul and attention would ^ potentially kill her and I kill no one and nothing < but those I dislike: the list is endless & I will no longer bore you talking about undertakers & political con artist shell game hosts . . . don't get me started again; or try to imagine my wrath making God's a party prank; a joke.<
Maybe I am more like God than I can demonstrate. I saw in my imagination a six year old girl held captive until that moment before her kidnapper decided to trade her in for a new one. And then. He decides to not bother killing her by any means, or measure, but instead leisurely takes her by the hand and stuffs her into a screaming wood chipper close at hand. Both have souls given by God, which one do I save, or attempt to resurrect--in the sense that they can be?
To say more would be to invite the attention of fools . . . well at least for now.
. . . sometimes I go off like a party balloon released to flatulently flap between ceiling and floor bounding off walls and somersaulting in mid air . . . i would do anything for a laugh from a dying child or world. But then I'm just an old fart without much time left.
. . . . . . funny last afternoon I saw a five pointed helium balloon flapping over a "Yard Sale" sign. The next time I looked and wondered where it had gone I presumed it was free in the sky/heavens above.