Sorry Dear Readers

I am dumb as a stick today. Da Brayen knot werkin. I have nothing to say for myself and am lost in a dream. It is a nice dream. I am listening to music and daydreaming. Perchance to dream. Perchance to joy. Perchance to sleep.

The absence of pain can be quite euphoric. To let go of all the crap for a moment. To end tension in oneself. To let go.

I am a hugger. I love to hug. I also like to smell new babies. You cannot do that everyday so I look forward to hugs. A hug is warmth. It is connection. Sex is nice; but, hugs say just as much and you can hug anyone. Someone asked me recently if I had ever been happy, not really. He said he guessed it wasn't a priority to me. He didn't get it quite right, other things were higher priorities. Things like caring for my family, honor, integrity and helping.

I am 50 now and alone. I have the greatest friends in the world; but, they cannot fill certain voids. There is a man, he is the last of his tribe, of his world. He lives in the amazon, he is the most secluded man in the world. He is the last Mohican, so to speak. Two people tried to contact him, he shot one in the chest with an arrow. His tribe had been attacked by outsiders and he is all that is left.

What happens when you lose everyone and everything you have ever known? What happens when you are the last? He is the Omega man. The Last Man on Earth, in his world. How his heart must ache. Solitary confinement and a distrust of the rest of the world. Sounds pretty bad. I pray for him.

There is a play. It is called "Waiting for Godot". It is a horrible play, I put it on once. I hated working that play. It is the most depressing play I have ever put on. Samuel Beckett was the author I believe. You can look it up. The lonely guy in Brazil, he just goes on and on. He moves from place to place. Nobody knows why, he is not looking for companionship, he just moves around. Why? What is he thinking? He knows the others are all dead.

My mirror. Lets discuss what is in my mirror. I have a piece of paper with a eulogy for my best friends son, I have a Australian ten dollar plastic money, I have a card for a realtor, a document prepartation company and a police detective. I have three pieces of paper with phone numbers on them. That is my mirror. The guy in Brazil has no phone numbers to call. He has no paper and nobody. He knows other people exist, he just doesn't want to meet them.

I have spent today mostly alone. By choice. My allergies are acting up and I have a sinus headache. No biggie, just what it is. I bought a couple of beers for some young men, they truly appreciated it, unfortunately, I do not feel up to socializing with them. My head hurts. I wonder if that is how the lone indian feels. Too much pain to feel like socializing with anyone.

I think I am rambling on this post even more than usual. I am not headed in any direction, just write. I used to draw, I was decent, not great, just decent. I stopped drawing by the time I was in law school. I just stopped. I drew maybe two pictures since then, if I find one of them I intend on destroying it. Art is a fragile thing.

If only you believe like I believe we get by. Hahaha. Lets talk about King Solomon for a moment. He had like 360 wives, what was he thinking. How do you propose to wife 360? I mean did he like promise his undying love or say that she was special to him? How did he get away with saying he was in love? Who would buy such a thing?

My dog is retarded. I hate to say it but he is. My dog has no good sense. He runs in front of my feet in circles trying to figure out where I am headed. If he had any sense he would follow behind instead of guess. You are so beautiful to me, you are so beautiful to me. Can't you see? Your everything I hoped for, your everything I need. You are so beautiful to me. You are so beautiful to me. You are so beautiful to me. Can't you see? Your everything I hoped for, everything I need. You are so beautiful to me.

Most of my writing tends to be similar to Hunter S. Thompson, today I write like the beat poets, no string to tag things together. Random. Random has value, we don't have to make sense all the time, it is okay to drift. Tonight I drift. Perhaps a friend will send me an e-mail and save me. Perhaps not.

Do you know the difference between a sniper and an assassin? Most people never considered the difference, I know both. A sniper hides and kills from a great distance. It is sort of remote from it's target. Sort of gutless. An assassin gets up close and personal. When they kill you the blood flows onto them. Wet work it is called. They actually have a relationship with their target, different personalities at work.

The people who control the drone planes are in the United States. They are controlling planes and killing people ten thousand miles away, it is a television show for them. They never feel the pain, they never share with their victims. They take little risk. If you do horrible things you should risk, it should be a requirement that you see into the eyes of your target and risk.

There are consequences for not following the rules. I believe there are times to not follow the rules; but, I also believe that society has the right to enforce the consequences when I do not follow the rules. I am not afraid. It is a battle of wills. Society can be wrong, to disagree with society should have consequences or society does not work.

I am a pacifist; but, I respect honesty, I respect assassins. I might call one this weekend, if he is reading this, hey guy. LOL. When your day is long and the night is yours alone, when your sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on. Don't let yourself go cause everybody cries, everybody hurts sometimes. Sometimes everything is wrong, now it's time to sing along. When your day is night alone. If you feel like letting go. If you think you've had to much of this life well hang on. Cause everybody hurts, take comfort in your friends, everybody hurts, don't throw your hands, oh no, don't throw your hands. If you feel like letting go, no, no, no, your not alone. If your on your on, in this life, the days and nights are long, when you think you've had to much of this life to hang on. Well everybody hurts, but sometimes everybody cries, everybody hurts. Sometimes. But everybody hurts, sometimes. So hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, everybody hurts.

My preferred weapon is a bow and arrow. It is silent and requires proximity. It is also very good at it's job. The lone indian has a bow and arrow. I will not use nor buy a combination bow, the distance is increased too much. Simplicity is the art of relationship. Up close and personal. Both good and bad should be done in person.

An assassin is not like a spy. They have the same skills; but, the assassin does the work and is truthful. In the world of intelligence there are many types of freaks. Each has their own personality profile. I like assassins the best because they put it all out there and have courage. They are willing to live with the results, heck, I think they want to. At least the three I have known.

Three, that is a lot. I just thought of that. How the heck does some retard like me know three assassins and two snipers. I wasn't even in the military. Draft ended when I was 17. Hey, it is almost twelve so I have to post. Random, no thread, just stuff. I don't have to always make sense, I just have to write. Be well kiddies.