Dire Real

                                                                                 Prologue

I'm so angry I could cry.  I waited, as you did, to hear what Biden had to say about Voting Suppression.  I adjusted the Day to get the mowing done before his address.  I confess,, what I WANTED  was a "Fire and Brimstone" `Conflagration from HELL` that would Ignite SERIOUS `Torches of Illumination` to be held at the feet of those democrats whose  EGO's somehow Prevent them from aligning themselves with "Truth, Justice and the American Way".  

Instead all joe was able to deliver was a 'sing-song' rendition of "The Past Should Be The Present".  

I warned you Kidz that Joe was too fucking OLD to manipulate the Intra-Political Psychological Machinery necessary to avert National Disaster.  Joe and his have been Avoiding DIRECT COMBATIVE CONFRONTATION, in the `Public Theater` for Reasons that only Cowardice can Explain.

Lagorious Buffoonery

 I KNOW myy Internal (Imaginary) Hardship manifests as Fury and Sorrow.  The Fury itself has Bitterness and Resentment as unruly Components and it doesn't help that I'm TEMPER-Mental and morosely (covetously) Moody as well.  My Guy and Legendary Sax-Man Wayne Shorter once described Humor as being SERIOUS.  I LOVE that >> "Serious Humor" as he put it.  My Gal and Hero Joan Rivers once responded to a Heckler with, "Get over it (asshole)  Humor is how we Deal with Pain."  

Death has repressed myy ability to Humorfy.  It has produced a near paralytic Coma-Osity that itself manifests as lagorious buffoonery.  Funny shit just AINT fucking funny because of Death's Proximity.

My apartment Mate Phlip Demers use-ta adminsiter a Hippie Adage of Consolation ::  [When things are TOTALLY Fucked uP you GOTTA] "Keep the Faith".

I extend this to ALL my Gentle Readers  >>  Keep the Faith  << .

Rock Steady........Steady as She goes....

Des Ire

The other morning I awoke to a Dream in which I was at a new home that had been ravished by Incompetency and Material Flaws.  I was SUPPOSE-TA be one of the Fixers, a One that was CAPABLE of effecting repairs of a Classical Carpentry [Cabinet/Furniture-Maker] Nature DESPITE the FACT that I have only Journey-men Skills.  When I looked out over the Expanse I saw MANY Homes that needed to be landscaped, i.e., loam had to be added to complete the Building.  I Knew in an Instant what my Un- Conscious was `getting at`.  These new Homes needed `Back-ground`, where 'Homes' are Individuals and 'Background' is Context.  There were many times when my father left me with the International C-500 Crawler Loader and the Chevy C 60 Dump and the words, "Do what you can, I'll be back in an hour."  I KNOW how to Loam and Back-fill, that ain't the Problem, like, AT ALL.  The Problem is DESIRE.  I DON'T want that Desire to be Shame and Guilt Based, I WANT to come by Desire HONESTLY.  

Yet ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I struggle and I Struggle Greatly.

Exasperational Despondency

  I never really TRY to remind myself that I'm the SMARTEST 5 Year Old this Planet has EVER Produced.  Prodigy Genius can get you only So Far ~~~ what's worse, when I try and Summon his Genius to get Answers to Spurious Questions, he H( )DES, which makes me Question his Authority to begin with.  What's WORSER is How many folks are gonna capital T Trust a 5 year old ANYWAY ?  At his BEST he's reductively SARDONIC and THAT AGGRAVATES me into exasperational Despondency, of the WORST Kind, the Kind that transforms Perception of Reality into an LSD Phantasm of  unmitigated Suspicion.  I can't `Trust` 'Trust' >>>  Trust mee on THAT.  My 5 year old puts RUST into Trust.  It don't get no more CORROSIVE.  He thinks he's Funny.

Sexography

 I have Everything `Figured-Out`.  And when I type 'Everything' I mean EVERY-THING.  The Difficulty is ~~~ when I go to send it up onto this Screen it all reads as wild-born nonsensical GIBBERISH, the hard-core Intellectual PORNOGRAPHY of a Sense and Sensation Based RADICAL Sexology that resides in "You're either Fucking" or "You're gettin FUCKED".  Shit ---------exactly how far does THAT get you?  Not Far, trust me.  Here I am ~~wanting to Save The World one Word, one Sentence at a time and all that results is a Fear-Driven Mania >> the [Un]Well-Spring of Categorical Insanity.  I KNOW I harbor a somewhat PERNICIOUS Desire to receive a dire-warned Forgiveness BECAUSE I'm old and INSANE, but if EVERYBODY is ALSO Insane THAT reduces me to nothing more than mere Cliche.  It's Yossarian in Catch-22  ----  You CAN'T Claim Insanity if THE WORLD IS INSANE.  That's "Catch 22".

As Doc Daneeka bounces,  "That's some Catch".

The OWWW in Out

 I never though I'd be here--alive that is.  Now that I AM Here I Feel As If I OWE at least a qualified SOMETHING to Humankind that would Express myy, for lack of anything better, Gratitude.  But Gratitude doesn't `cut it`.  I have Doubts, Misgivings and a prolonged Sense of Whatthefuck that prohibits any RATIONAL Apology of Abject Surrender and Judicious Forbearance.  Ancient Bible-Ists considered 'leaving behind' a Testament as the DUTY of a God-Fearing Man ~~~ as if THIS would be some sort of TAX on Existence itself as though just reg-lar Suffering wouldn't be considered ENOUGH.  No and FUCK NO, `it` aint Enough, not even CLOSE to Enough-----------I'm lookin' at a Contribution that Contributes an [Evolutionary] ADVANCEMENT of Civilization ~~~  A One that not only AIDS Others on the Path of Spiritual Fulfillment but Provides Matter-Of Fact PENETRATION into the Causes and Results of Reality------a Reality that I have signaled as Karma Driven.  

I have It in meee, THAT aint the Problem ~~~~~~~~~~~~the Problem iz  getting it OUT.

FreeMason

 I awoke into an old Dave Mason Song.  "I'm takin' the time / To find some new roads / Into my mind"  His Background Celestial Chorus affirms, "Take It, Go on and Take It".  The Song is off "Let It Flow" a 1977 Release out of Columbia and CBS Records Inc.  I Love this Album (turned CD).

I haven't moved any Rock in a looooooooong time.  It's wearing on me and I DON'T `wear it` well.  I've allowed myself a Misery-Born-of-Helplessness, It's a brooding Misery --- a combination of self-loathing and [Core] volcanic Seethe.  The Thing about Moving Rock is that you can SEE the Results of Intensive Effort--whereas with the Written Word you MAY get Numbers that reflect Reader Interest or you may  NOT--which produces and ampLIFIES Feelings of Insignificance and/or Disinterest.  For whatever Reasons I have Ambition to Present MYYY Version of Reality, myy suppose-ed Contribution to Cultural Society which may or may NOT Reach Civilizational Quality.  

And then there's the Fear....................