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Stoned Rant on Dland, Angels, and TV. before/after
I can no longer smoke enough pot to make tv interesting.
This is bad news, surely to be recieved in a foul mood in some corners of this sofa.
Y'see, I 'm trying to develop a certain perspective, and Perspective is Essential.
A certain balance must be acheived, and maintained. Not just fuckarounds and lame thirty dollar weekend binges.
Fuck all that nonesense. One must rise above it. To see. To lift your head above the human suck-tide, above the bobbing heads of the throng, and plot your own course, or else move truly to Fate's bidding, and as such, some would say you are a fool.
But not me. For any number of reasons. Everyone has their own destiny to be achieved.
Ours is but to know. To reason. To See. To see the first glimmers of what wonders that may be and still are. I think that's why the notion of angels appeals to everyone, because ultimately that is what we are. Watch, see, be, and finally mean and amount to nothing in the grand spectrum astronomical sort of way. So its nice that there are people like we are, who benignly share are tender moments and smile down beatifically upon us.
So I'll watch. And I'll learn. And I'll know.
I'll know whatever there is to be known. I'd like to know.
Wouldn't you?
Subordinate clauses with no antecedents are fun sometimes. Credit for my grammar skills belongs to parochial schools. Left in the fifth grade, and public school never caught up. Scary.
I really wonder what parochial school did to me. I wish there were studies that quantified that. Send some basal rate bullshit my way. I wanna know.
This has all been a lame fuckaround fromt he start. I'm not sure if I mean dland, or my pot smoking plan.
It is some good green.
But this whole dealio has provided me with more impetus to write, which is a good thing, but its so surreal. Dland. All these peoples lives. Its so freaky.
And me, being the charitable soul I am, getting drawn in to the secrets and the confessions. Some are bullshit. Some aren't. I learned to separate this easily.
I used to be in a helping profession. I am a benevolent, helping type of person. And regardless of the fucked up shit I do, and goes on around me, I'm usually not feeling right unless I'm helping someone. I'm good at it. I was born with a lot of advantages. Of course you can lean on me.
I love dland in a strange way. I want to see it as a crystal. As a mantis in amber. Something I can't fuck with, but appreciate its beauty from afar.
And that's the trick. Its a living, respirating creature, with a life with all its own. Some times, its like being in the cabin with the kids...they're all bee bopping around, cleaning the cabin or something dull, having a great time, and you sit there and smile. They're talking about nothing. Being silly. It's the best of times. 'Cause their being kids, being allowed to be kids, rather than what their environment forced them to be. And you help them. And you sweat the details of their lives. And you help them through. And its hard work.
And dland. everyone is allowed to be the person they are. Free flowing, no censor. This is me, come take a wiff of this. And I read them. And get drawn into them. And I write an awkwarrd fumbling letter. Damn my eyes. And nothing, but the awkward silence of two strangers brought together closely for no real reason. And I sweat the details of their lives. Abortion. no. savage drug abuse...well, okay. Heavy medication. Bummer. Collapsing in public. Shit that sucks. Cutting. Fuck. Attempted suicide. uh..
Fuck!
And really, its such an impotent thing. Like you can do anything. And this is a pack of the lonliest bleeding hearts club band if I ever saw one. The proverbial coalmine canaries in a cage, that are so beautifuly sensitive, that we will all kick off before art is dead. Some are sensitive like raw nerves with the skin peelled back out there. Its enough to make one cringe.
I want to see it from afar.
So maybe I should just leave well alone and rant in my little nook of pandemonium. Just sit in the malestrom and watch. Content to smile when everythings good.
Shit heel! Cockfuck! Fuckface!
Yeah... there we go.
Back to my pot smoking plan.
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