Lying

Lying down is good. Lying in wait may be alright. But just plain lying is not. Really not. Sucks. Some Hasid or other said that when lying was considered as vile a sin as adultery, the messiah would come. Or some other real good thing would happen. I'm considering becoming Jewish. I'm feeling a call -- to the Pale. Is that what it's called? May try to relearn that Hebrew alephbet, while I develop my own version of Jerusalem Ridge. (the Bill Monroe tune so rocked by Casey Driessen)

There are obvious ways of lying. The most obvious: saying false things. Asserting that which is not the case.
I think there are other ways of lying. What do you think?

The program requires honesty. Often I hear that's honesty with self. But sinning of any kind presents problems for recovering folks. That's why I try not to kill rodents or lie to them or commit adultery with them.

I also find that if I can avoid my friends, I don't have to lie to them either.

When people are really drunk, though, I think it's probably OK to lie to them, since they probably won't remember it.
I lied to some drunk people just the other day. I said "I really think you should let me drive you home," when actually the last thing in the world I wanted to do was drive them home.

Happy Once

I was happy once.
But I can't prove it.

I wax philosophical for the last Time

It is said, and with good reason, you can’t change the past. But look, I just did! What was a mere thought, then in the present, is now part of the past. And now what was the future is past, passed.
Yesterday’s Chinese buffet has passed, is past.
The past is a constantly growing bag of tricks.
For some, a constant source of regret, even agony. But dude, don’t dwell on that stuff! There’s all kinds of new past stuff happening all the time.
The fleas I picked off Oscar this afternoon, past. The picking, past! The sunset, oh it was going to be a beauty, past. The daughters, also beauties, passing. The beauty, changing, frozen occasionally in photographs, in memory. Eventually past. Eventually even forgotten. The memories, past.
All of life passes, all of existence passes. God does not (by definition). But I wonder….what will He do for entertainment after I’m not around to pass the time with Him?
Who will make him smacky macky? Who will guard the secret correct changes to Sweet Lorraine? Hmmmm?

This is all sophism, pilpil is the Yiddish word. Drivel. Whatever.
I would have you consider the nature of Time. Our greatest enemy, our greatest friend. But really neither, because it doesn’t care. “Care.” It ticks. Tocks. Another blues stinger done gone, etc etc.
I’m not so much talking about death, though, as I am about life. It is no wonder that the very religious often advertise eternal life. Or multiple lives. We do get do overs. Over and over. And we usually need them. Plenty of them. Thankfully, our errors pass, the damage passes too, eventually. And the next error and the next damage. And the glory is His. And the smacky macky too.

violents are blue

Rain could be precipitous
Rubies could be precious
Well, red.
Gorgons occur after the blood is cleaned up
From the crime seen
Yesterday afternoon
Just before the cowed burst
From the quietly angry
Child.

Children could be borne
But not for long
And vascectomies
Are not for ever
No
They’re for your spouse.

Mood river,
Don’t be crossed with me
I will give you a big stick
And you can row
All day and all night
Til Cerberus dies
Or moves from the sub burbs
to the
Newly gentrified part of town
Somewhere north of another direction.
Ignorth south, lease west.
That’s what my real tear sez.

But advice from me
Is the last thing you want.
You have just enough
Vices of your own.

Perhaps I could get a grip.
tomorrow
I would return it fersure.

bedtime story in Cognito

First, a few meaningless statements:
1. Every human being is worthwhile.
2. My dog understands me.
3. My brother understands me.

These are not false statements. They're Meaningless. The proof is that their negations are absurd -- not false.

Check it: No human being is worthwhile. Or even: I saw a human at the farmers market who was not worthwhile.
Silly, huh?
or My dog does not understand me. Here however is a similar but meaningful statement -- and a true one: My dog does not understand me when I say "Je t'aime beaucoup mon petit." When I say "Treat." of course all the dogs "understand" something by that. On this I tend to be a behaviorist though. They go to where the treat should be. If this is understanding, so be it. Not much to it though.
or even the negation of 3.-- My brother doesn't understand me. Now this is not the Russell/Strawson/whoever problem (that I actually have no brother). The problem is that people just don't understand other people. Not really. They can guess. And we do guess.
From the things that are real in our lives:
Fun, fear, money (much misunderstood and oft maligned yet real), music, dance, tax documents. eyeballs, genitals.
My mother does not understand me. It is too big of an undertaking for her. Actually I was her undertaker. I scattered her (purported) ashes (It was Georgia, 2001)...I think lust and chemicals are fairly real too, and tempos are very real to me. And I can build meaning out of these things. Little meanings. Faster, slower, dragging, rushing.

Once upon a time there was a hairy beast who lived in the woods on top of lots of limestone with barkers and lizards.
There was a pool, but no one ever swam in it on purpose. Only by accident. Every single day, the sun rose behind the trees and eventually over the pool. Then later it set and things got dark. No matter how many times the sun did its routine, the hairy beast could not understand it. Though he would have been shocked had the routine been suddenly altered. There also might be worldwide panic. Maybe there already is.

Electronic French devices speak hourly in the beast's house. Someday maybe these devices will swim in the pool. The beast works for a living, enjoys his work, enjoys his co-workers, but they don't understand him. They would say they care about him, some would say "deeply", but that only works when they actually take the next step and care for him. This may or may not be what co-workers are supposed to do. And the whole discussion is vague at best. However: The beast does his best to care for the people in his life. But he doesn't understand them, and he has resolved not to waste too much energy trying to. Since he figured out that there can be no such understanding.

And that it will take his long wonderful life for him to not even come close to understanding himself. He can try to like himself. Perhaps starting in D major and working around the circle of fifths. Accidentally. In this, meaning.