Cooking My Bacon in Butter and Leftover Burger Grease

A lot is said these days about this and that, so much so that keeping the ‘that’s’ from blending in with the ‘this’s’  takes some concentration. Sometimes even Google has no answers for me, how I long for the good old days when opinions were accepted as facts…

What? Fox News is still on, so the facts still get twisted around RM’s wallet? Good to know, but I haven’t been watching too much, just sports…By the way…what was that Steelers? FYI: Next weeks game starts at 8:20, don’t be late. The world is huge, no matter what the communist Walt Disney says. Sure, fate brings a fellow Pittsburgher into the same Bangkok bar, and we quip, “It really is a small world after all.” No, it’s not. It’s vast, the enormity of it all overwhelms, just ask my agoraphobic friend Susie. No wonder she is always trying to squeeze in between seconds in a tool shed.

Perspective is that we are living in a messed up world, if you value happiness, if you believe happiness are the extension of treating everyone with love and compassion. I get it, that’s a real mother fucker, trying to turn the other cheek, when the other one needs 13 stitches. A funny thing happens when all that anger, attachment and hate are exposed as truly toxic, held on to for no other reason but pride, and a sense of disrespect. Fear muddies the water and it’s easier to float in a river of salted shit than walk on forgiveness.

Think of the person you hate, if you have one, if not, congrats, all that stuffed down shit isn’t poisoning the one despised. Nope, you’re slowly killing yourself with toxic waste, while you wait on the other person to die of natural causes. You aren’t winning that one. What to do when the object of one’s rejection is in the mirror? Kind of a conundrum, but the remedy is the same thing, just a lot harder to stop beating up the failure reflected off the ceiling of hope, sinking in a world of fantastical self-created misery.

At some point, I gave up on shooting myself in the foot. Arm more literally, but it’s always semantics with most, tomato, tomato, hope you said them differently, doesn’t matter, that isn’t semantics at all, there’s a sale on iodine, but you have a shitload of Neosporin and peroxide to bleach all those sins away. Maybe that’s it.

Ground down to dust, life didn’t want to scatter me, instead I got thrown in some spiritual kiln, came out all Chuhily. I lucked out is one thought, or maybe I was saved, semantics…yep, anyway, doesn’t matter what you call reality, as long as you can put all the bullshit aside and see it for everything it is, and not anything you think it might or could be.

Life gets better, and even though I want to punch the author of “it gets worse before it gets better” – and Google provides me an Obama Ebola quote, how awesome a name would that be…meet my son, Ebola Obama…nope doesn’t work, everyone dislikes that guy even though no one really says why. Throw opinions off the wall until the one cooked al dente sticks. I digress, fuck politics, because they are almost all crooks.

It doesn’t have to get worse, if you decide this is as bad as I am going to ever let it get, but I am thick-headed, I knew everything without a shred of wisdom in my brain. For me it did get way worse, and I got it, because the only thing worse for me was dying.

I still think in off ways, ask anyone dealing with me with even spotty regularity, I am not right. I get these thoughts, once craved, now unwanted, thoughts of bizarre tragic events, a bus blowing a tire out, launching towards me as I slip on a discarded vape, smacking my skull against a railroad spike even though no train tracks are around for miles, this is how I go out after all I survived. Or the less grandiose, a flea bite that spreads some new plague. Will not ever be on Humira, need my immune system in full operating condition.

After all, I have a duty to my fellow human beings, to do my best to be there when needed, however random the collision, my world is just the right size because I treat everyone the same these days, and am on a road to trying to fix the old days when I was selective in my love and kindness, and generous with deception, and all sorts of other selfish, self-centered actions. ‘What did it get me?’  That was the question I asked before every word, a grand plan to use and get more.

Today it’s, ‘what can I do to help you?’

Hopefully this serves as notice, yes, butter is oh so good, but you can’t believe everything you read. Only what you see.



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