Floating on a Lighter Shade of Travail

After reliable reassurances I'm not worth a shit and nothing I ever did was worth a shit, it should be apparent I'm aware of it, particularly given the number of sources and their persistence.  The most colorful is an oldie with the suggestion I should die in a fire.  The most insensitive was about sitting on the sidelines but I'm not clear on the point beyond self-elevation.  My ol' Dad chastised me for pulling down the greats to boost myself and I learned a great deal from him.

Ed:  you pull down the greats often

I pull down poseurs and the greats are treated with reverence.  Dick Gregory is a god and Stephen Colbert is just the blowby from a stinkfart.  That which Dick Gregory did took balls.  To do that which Colbert does only takes a checkbook.


The question is how to pull any inspiration out of that when the prevailing wind just brings more locusts.

Zen Yogi:  why bother?

A thousand people read it each day and that's on a slow one.  They're not interested in the same old Establishment crap since the Establishment kills imagination but they must be plagued to some extent by it or they would just think it up themselves and would never need Ithaka.

Zen Yogi:  so there's obligation?

Only to myself to deliver as I can but the ability is dropping fast and the cruelty of the sidelines crack will become evident in due time.


There are two who bring a positive vibe and are actually interested in support which makes them all more precious and detractors all the more WTF.

Those two are the reason I don't take the morphine and there's ample reason to start eating it.  The next thing to come after morphine is a blank look on my face and then Facebook to go on until I die with some bullshit no-one will ever read unless it comes with a cartoon.  They will see their eclipse tomorrow and have forgotten about it by the day after.  For me, that's the same as death.

Note 1:  I split one tab into quarters for just under four milligrams each but I'm still afraid of it because imagine the worst sick you ever got after drinking too much.  Welcome to morphine.

Note 2:  that's not just Tinkerbell forgetting things, that's Facebook, the Galactic Capital of Instant Gratification.


Zen Yogi:  conform or die, Silas

Oh, sure, Zen Yogi.  You always were such a conformist.

Conform to what, Zen Yogi.  The same people who use computer models to say a nuke war won't be such a problem don't believe the computer models which project climate change.

Zen Yogi:  you already know they're crazy and malevolent, Silas, so why would you look for inspiration there?

There's a fuckin' light somewhere and I'm determined to find it.

Zen Yogi:  looking for inspiration in the places which douse it is not logical

Yeah, there's that.


Zen Yogi:  what about sitting by the side of the creek where it's so thick with old-growth trees the Sun doesn't shine directly on you but beams break through the leaves here and there.  It's warm and you dangle your bare feet in the water to feel it rippling over your toes

Is this a fish story, Yogi?

Zen Yogi:  no and I already told you I don't like catching fish.  That's why I steal pic-a-nic baskets.

This is about the Zen of that little creek?

Zen Yogi:  in that time, there is no other Now except for the next ripple to cross your toes

I see, it's like haulin' ass on motorcycles since that doesn't leave room to think about anything else.

Zen Yogi:  not exactly, Silas.  Did you ever do that with a creek?

No idea but I can see it and that's the same thing, right?

Zen Yogi:  thinking has always been the best way to travel

Sure it is, Yogi.  There are no cops, goons or missionaries that way.


 Zen Yogi:  what about when you're a kid watching them sheering sheep outback and it's incredibly hot with that red Australian dust everywhere but you don't care and the ones doing the sheering are so incredibly damn fast although you notice the sheep almost always wind up with nicks and cuts.

That's not exactly making rainbows for me, Yogi, but it's an exotic moment and, you're right since it's the Now and there is nothing else needed for that moment.

Zen Yogi:  when time is thin-sliced like deli turkey with bits from then and other thens plus bits from the random futures, the Now disappears in psychic noise and temporal distortion

There is no time and that much is easy.  That it still passes is impossible to ignore.

Zen Yogi:  your Now passes just the same and your focus is not lost.  In dancing around with that many don't find their way back.


Watson:  you're fuckin' bats, Silas

Nah, that ain't bats.  Slam dancing to the music of Prince with the Good Witch of wherever the fuck she came from is bats.

Watson:  fair enough


What do you think when you look at a field of sunflowers, Zen Yogi?

Zen Yogi:  I think about eating sunflower seeds, Silas

But look at that field some more and every one of those sunflowers is pointed directly at the sun.  The enormous array of their brilliant colors creates a Now which is impossible any other way.

Zen Yogi:  you may be starting to get it, Silas


How about sitting with two dearest friends in a park after working all night and you blow some reefer in the sunshine knowing there's nothing more to do after that except hit the mattress.  Then a Giant Satanic Raven lands on one end of the picnic table so naturally you jump away from it but, ever so stupidly, neglect to pick up the bag of reefer.

You can see the Giant Satanic Raven taking a long look at the reefer so you dash to pick up the bag and stuff it in your shirt pocket.  He's not stupid so he knows what you did with it so he walks up to your end of the picnic table and stares directly into your eyes, unwavering in his desire to chew your eyes and peck your skull ... after he retrieves the reefer.

WHAM ... this bloody Giant Satanic Raven launches off the table straight for your eyes.

Zen Yogi:  what happened?

I fuckin' died, mate.

Zen Yogi:  you just wanted me to be the straight bear this time?

Yep.  Thank you.

Note:  in real the three of us hit the ground faster than the Cowardly Lion but the reefer was saved.


Watson:  I was correct the first time.  You're fuckin' bats.

Believe me, Watson, as you do not want to make this a contest since my bats shoot lasers out of their eyes and have teeth so sharp they make an alligator look like just another a cow, even the saltwater crocs from Australia.

Get this, ANTIFA Labs has developed GMO Bats and, even when flapping their wings,  they are perfectly silent ... until they start sucking your blood but you won't feel anything since they can drain infidels in twelve seconds or less.

Watson:  infidels?

Politicians and the really bloated ones take only a little bit longer.

Watson:  Lord, Lord, stealth bats

The Lord didn't make these bats; we did (takes a humble bow).