Maybe the winos in the park have it figured out? At least for those 2 hours of the 24 that they need to survive. Then I don’t know where they go to? Or is it the pro-football player working for the man and murdering people in his spare time. Perhaps the arms vendor pedaling the latest human splat device. Maybe you have it all figured out?
Never-mind. In the end all that matters is that we have soft sheets and cable TV. Maybe a steak in the fridge and a bottle of wine with a real cork. Someone to love and cry to when the world seems to be going mad. Cancel the cable TV.
Surely we must be mad. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone that was not. Walking down the street I look for the twinkle of madness in every person. Infected.
Eat, sleep, sex, play, work, worship, walk, run, smile, cry, laugh and point your crazy finger at yourself. Not me. Leave me out of this nut-house. I’m flying to Jamaica and sniff pussy. Carefully though.
Be careful in this life. Proceed with caution. Save for a rainy day, because you can bet your ass one is coming. Yes indeed think positive. Be creative.
Count your money. Then go and spend it all on chocolate. Good dark chocolate imported from Belgium and tenderly wrapped by virgin hands in gold leaf. Stuff as many chocolates in your mouth that will fit and chew like a starving dog on the banks of a dry riverbed surrounded by dead trees.
Trust you. Winos don’t have it figured out anymore than the wacko sniffing glue in the Vatican. The winos dreams are gone. They are just looking for the medicine to dull the pain of life. Well the wacko in the Vatican is peering into the clouds waiting for the sign. The thumbs up or the pesticide nozzle that commences spraying. Ignore this paragraph, it makes no sense.
Never delete. Save and post. “I need more time,” he yelled up to the clock repair man. The clock repair man yelled down from the central town square tower. “I can’t stop the clock.” The pigeons cooed.
The North American Indian? All that knowledge buried.
Spontaneity of life. Have I lost it. Walking with the others in the rat maze. The long line toward the Auto-Teller_Machine. Withdraw. Purchase. Withdrawal. Purchase. My eyes glazed over from the giant advertising billboards and smog. Surrounded by frowns.
Then I jump out of bed, because optimism holds dreams. Dreams do come true. Why not me I think.
When life for that brief moment feels perfect. Stop and deeply inhale the sweetness of that beautiful moment, for it may never return.
(I found it. That last paragraph was what I was looking for.)
Lady walks into a church meeting to decide if she would like to attend the church. An ex-prostitute says the church saved her life. An alcoholic states that the church saved his life. Ex-junkie swears on the bible that the church saved his life. Finally an ex-criminal states the church turned his life around.
The lady says, “ I don’t think this church is for me, since I never had any of those problems,” and walks out of the church.
It does not matter! What does matter is that you enjoyed your life. That each day you tried to improve your life and others. Maybe you live in a cardboard box or in a mansion. You might be physically challenged or a star athlete. No matter what your circumstances are, it is best to face each day optimistically.
Why am I writing this?
Because today I am optimistically happy. Interestingly yesterday I was experimenting with chocolate. Good homemade bitter chocolate and I ate a lot of it. Today I woke up feeling happy. Maybe I’m high from the chocolate. So possibly the secret to happiness is good chocolate.
Love. Love our brief stay on this planet. Tell the ones you care about that you love them. Smile no matter how grim your circumstances or how great.
If we don’t smile today. When?
Lets save the rain forest. Sounds nice and easy. Right? Well in reality some people that live in the jungle in Peru die trying to save their home in the rain forest. Edwin Chota was one of those people.
Gunned down over trees that are worth big money. Edwin Chota was gunned down with some other men trying to defend the jungle that they called home. The corruption is so bad in some governments and the trees worth so much money, that Edwin Chota’s life wasn’t worth a shit to the people that murdered him.
Edwin Chota was someone in the way of easy money. For now the illegal logging continues in Peru.
His family fled the jungle after he was murdered.
Original photo: Emory Richey
The long winding road up to the village.
Though no hobbits live here, the village of Santa Catalina has that feeling. The feeling of maybe I’ll run into a hobbit. Quaint adobe homes with odd doors and unorthodox stairs. Chickens roaming free in the high Andes mountains of Peru.