Musing 2

A continuation of Musing 1 with similar manner of creation:  born from 06-07 web content; compiled Jul 14 2007; published (dumped) on this site Nov 30 2007

We begin with…

the correction of sin is the infusion of love.

I look at the flaws in my thinking…and what I have made you – ALL of you – do to me.
My perception, of course – not reality. I am wrong to have you crucifying me.

When you crucify me, I do not own my lot in life. You are the person – you are the people – who “sit in judgement of me and deem me [adjective]” and thus I am cursed. And how DARE you do that, and I hold you responsible and…
…yeah, stuff like that. Ask me to list some self-descriptive adjectives, and I would rattle a few off. Then ask me who ascribes that value to me – myself, or those in relation to me?

I choose adjectives that are ascribed to me by those who look upon me instead of those reserved for self-ascription. (made that one up) So when I say “I feel unworthy” I must acknowledge that it is not me that gets to say whether I am of any worth, so if I’m feeling that way, then I must ACTUALLY be saying that you are deeming me unworthy.
Which is wrong of me to do.

My best old ex-friend Terry has “sat in judgement of me” – by my own creation – since he chose to break contact. Terry has his life, his conditions, such as they are. He seeks to follow his path as best he can. He can do nothing else. He sits in no such place.

For those times on this site and in my heart, Terry, that I’ve perceived and expressed your condemnation of me, please know that I acknoweldge my error, and that it does not represent your love and fellowship, for that is real and cannot be threatened.

We then wonder at the motivation – what is the reason that Philip does this?
Can its roots be found in pain and fear…?
(Anyone taking bets?)

It hurts when your best friend chooses to break from that role, and expresses the reasons for that choice as the manner by which you go through your life. I can no longer be your friend, Philip, because you are the way you are. Tough to swallow, in a couple of regards (ADDED LATER: Doesn’t mean it’s not true or applicable!). Instinctually, what would you suppose a likely reaction?

Being a person, and fallible, and undeveloped, and in pain – oh, and selfish too (”I’m hurting, and I’m important enough that the person that hurts me should know about it”) – I ”lash out and hurt him back.” But I’m also passive, so I lash out very passively – by assigning him responsibility for my condition. “See what a mean person he is! Look what he’s done! If it weren’t for him, Philip would be doing so much better.”

All of that in one little, “Golly, I feel unworthy.”

Who else sits in judgement? The list isn’t that important – what’s important is seeing that these are merely perceptions that I create by looking into myself first, then projecting all of it out into the world and then perceiving that world as it comes back to me. Deep down, I know I can’t judge my own worth, so “to feel unworthy” I must have someone deem me unworthy.

I don’t own my pain that way. >Whew!< thank goodness I’m not hurting myself, he says sarcastically…
So – ok, a bit much to swallow, but I feel resonant with that (”resonant” being a nod to Webb, to really does also have it right, and he, too, is aligned but as of our last meeting, stalled at output). There’s corrective action to be taken here…
And this feels very right to be going down this line of thinking, as though some breach is imminent. Terrence – another guide, another friend, whom I met at ArtsFest 2005 – I believe made reference to some of this in a recent e-mail to me: “There is a problem, a chink in your consciousness, that can be corrected with the “right” understanding should you ever desire to self-correct.” This resonates with me as being along the right line of that “chink”…

I’m following a line of thinking that stems from the exercise Sandra had me do and the follow-ups to it. The exercise, I believe is from another thing that Sandra referred me to – A Course in Miracles. I looked at their site and this page has stayed with me:  http://www.fipdata.org/ACIM/WhatItSays.htm, much like Santideva’s “such are his conditions” from Guide to the Bodhisattva Way of Life has stayed with me. I may be too cynical for the moment to dive into that course headlong, The main roadlbock for me stems from their disposition towards Christian terminology. And at this moment more specifically, the words forgiveness and forgiving.The idea of “such are Terry’s conditions” feels right – it’s not forgiveness, tho…

The idea that my ego makes me perceive Terry in a position of judgement.  And to correct that mistake, that sin, is to see reality through the eyes of love.  And know that Terry is not in that position – that feels right, too, but it’s also not really forgiveness – it feels like something else…

I can sense that part of my own healing process involves making acknoweldgements such as what I’ve described, but it’s also still falling short. How are these newfound ideas to manifest themselves, how am I now to move on in the moments of my life? That’s still out there…

I’m still avoiding.

The correction of sin is the infusion of love.
Heaven is our natural state.

Thumb for My Head

A quirky moment from a recent day @ work:

Amanda will tell you she has seen my face more, seen me look her in the eye more, have a lighter movement to my step, and smiles or laughter on a trigger finger. I was speaking with her at the register regarding a drawing I’m commissioning from her fella, and I’d sketched a simple version & was describing aloud what I was going for…
A customer – a woman in her mid-fifties or so – had heard enough of the conversation to apparently pique her curiosity, and she asked “what on EARTH” I was talking about.  I stood up & faced her, and (as best as can be achieved) answered thusly:

(Holding up my right hand in display) Early man was limited in his ability to make & use tools until one finger moved in opposition – a watershed event in our evolution.

The Age of Reason has now expanded our mental capacity for thought and ideas, but there’s still all these ideas outside of our grasp. We need our minds to evolve like our hands, some portion of it moving to create opposition and grasp these ideas and use them as tools – a thumb for our head.

I’m asking her fiance to draw someone who has a thumb for their head [to be distinct from thumb on their head].

Mar 2010 Note:  This idea now has its own page.

Your Star His Star Her Star Pinspot

I see a star, and I see its mass and energy and electromagnetism and fusion and power and light and hues and eruptions and vibrance……..an immense, breathing, past our knowing behemoth holding the universe in its maw…

Look. Up. pinspot pinspot pinspot pinspot pinspot pinspot
person
It’s always there, shining bright, when you know it’s there going in…

And that’s kind of the idea, that you choose to know beforehand that each person is a pinspot…or, if it’s all just a ride and a play, then everyone has a pinspot – or at least oughta – and the moments that you’re engaging that person, it’s your job to “man the pinspot” and shine the light on that person and celebrate their presence and the gift they give of engaging with you…

And the thing is, if you can really see that, and really, really think you can do that – and I think I can I think I can (LETC) – then you can witness changes…

What changes? Well, GEEEZ, folks, I mean, you’re only a tiny little human going up next to a star…whadya THINK’s gonna happen?

And do you know how many times this happens on the planet? I can only, of course, personally account for mine, and I’m only one of 6 billion or so, and I meet and talk to a lot of people each day. And the coolest stuff happens when your face is up…

“That Which Started This Whole Thing”

I was standing in line to pay the parking garage in downtown Philadelphia yesterday @ 4:00pm, one of many. The typical livestock feel…and I reached the window and said hello to the person behind the glass, and a young woman was there, and she was so genuine and easy in her manner that you could just feel she was, for those brief moments, stopping to talk to you and you only, and she only looked up and the end, but it was a most genuine warm look like,

“Thanks for hangin out for 14 seconds…”.

And I walked away most appreciative and wished the young woman well…And isn’t wishing kind of like praying? Or, differently, you think to yourself and “toss out” into the world your inner expression of thankfulness for that moment, and gratitude to that young woman and an encouragement that she continue in that mode as best as she is able because that is a gift to the world, and a belief that you’re saying that in your head “out to everyone” actually sends a little something to that woman to aid her in her days ahead, and it stems from a belief also that good things will come to that young woman precisely because that is her manner about the world, but part of that contract involves your “public” acknowlegement and such…

Thing is, though…no two stars are the same/snowflakes/fingerprints…distinction is necessary for tension, otherwise there’s no need for emotion (ding!), and geez, where’s the fun in that? It’s just a ride, and if you were just like me the ride would suck…so all that makes some stars bigger than others……

…..and some reactions are more feral and instinctive when it comes to “being drawn to the light” – just ask a moth (Far Side: “You’ve been over at the Johnson’s front porch again, haven’t you??”), or ask that lady from Poltergeist…End of the day, you’re just a human, and you can feel your holistic reaction to interacting with that many stars all the time, all different, all massive & overwhelming – when you allow them to be – and you’re affected…but affected in the context of proximity.

Take the “That Which” story….I have every certainty that a ten-minute conversation with that woman – with me manning the pinspot – would reveal a most extraordindary woman, a star of exceptional magnitude. I had an actual physical proximity AND a barrier, and the briefest of moments in urban travel sludge, and this young woman just SHINED. Guess that’s why they use that word, huh?

THIS is more the stuff I want to get out…and there was a little bit of that in the last entry, too….and that’s why I’m here, right now, being the person I am, to ruminate and communicate and go through the freefall of MY life trying to figure things out just like everyone else….but it seems I’m predisposed to the gristle of the challenge – which is EXTRAORDINARILY ironic given how repugnant I am of chewing in general…so I’ll ruminate and communicate and freefall but not because (wait for it…)

Let’s take him out back and kick the shit out of him…wait, wait – what have you got to say for yourself?

It’s just a ride…a play……….one great big fucking game of Pachinko

There’s your mom……on her shoulders, legs up & open wide in a reverse squat, and

POP!

Out you fucking come, shooting up up up up up, and you slow to a stop, a pause at the very top of the game, nothing but the pegs of your life to bounce off of on your way down…

…and you take your first breath out of your mother’s womb…

…and it’s all downhill from there. And good luck to you, new person…..’cause that’s really all there is, once you see your context. You’re just a pachinko ball, falling through your life. “What’s the plan?” There isn’t a plan – you’re at the top of the machine, inside a ball that’s going to fall all the way to the bottom. And in between are pegs. A lot of ‘em.

No, really. More’n you think.

And that’s all.

Each peg is a choice. Each peg is a moment. So you can see, there’s a lot of ‘em from your first breath until the bottom, bringing only decomposition and decay.

On decomposition: I don’t mean that in a bad way…but it is only our greed for life and sentience that had us take that which we know to connect and bind us all, though we still can’t quite grasp and articulate and live it collectively, and instead concoct this whole notion of souls and eternal spirits and afterlife and all that. You know me well enough to know I’m an Ockam’s Razor kind of guy – simplest explanation is the most likely. (I lean that way mostly ’cause I do’t have TIME in my head to absorb the endless amount of excrutiating detail which surrounds everything)
(paraphrased from our friend Wiki) Ockam’s Razor is a principle attributed 14th century logician and Franciscan friar William of Ockam. The principle states that the explanation of any phenomenon should make as few assumptions as possible. In Latin it reads:

entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem

which translates to:

entities should not be multiplied beyond necessity.

This is often paraphrased as “All things being equal, the simplest solution tends to be the best one.” In other words, when multiple competing theories are equal in other respects, the principle recommends selecting the theory that introduces the fewest assumptions and postulates the fewest hypothetical entities. It is in this sense that Ockam’s razor is usually understood.

Continuing…

it takes a LONG time before you figure out that you’re just a ball falling through and hitting the pegs of your life until you reach the bottom, and you become aware enough to undertsand that you can INFLUENCE the direction of the ball! This is HUGE!

All of which and all pending to say nothing specfically to sway the collective choice. There is, indeed, merit to kicking the shit out of me. I need to go through it. I’ll manage. I’ll get up. The choice is yours. If you think that and believe that of sufficient merit, then that to me outweighs my need for physical safety. Seems I’m in need to take one for the team.
I’m just saying all this stuff, well, because you asked…PASSIVE again. Won’t tell you until you ask – who am I to presume I can start spouting out truth and have you think it so?

That’s the part where we’re NOT all different. That you can influence the direcdtion of the ball. That you can own your choices. You’re around 7-9 years old…

…and the more you can figure all that out, the more power will build up inside your ball, and you will be able to transmogrify that pachinko ball into a star, with enough power to define its own gravity…and you stop slamming into pegs, stop hurtling downwards, and instead slalom through the oil between the pegs, even once in a moment or two move backwards with an “Ooomph!” and a thrust to move up a bit, and instead to the other side of that peg up there because that was the truer choice…

…and you begin to do what other pachinko balls cannot, and you feel the peace that comes from navigation and wish it for the other pachinko balls…

…but they can’t hear you…so all you can do is be the best star you can be, and maybe a few of those other pachinko balls will see for themselves and weave themselves as best they can in your direction and ask you “How’d you become a star? How are you missing the pegs? How’d you push yourself up like that?”

You have to figure out how to man your own pinspot. That’s part of it, anyway.

I think the other part does have something to do with being passive. As an argument, listen to how this sounds:

Hey, you – BUDDY – c’mere…shine this pinspot on me, ok?

Yuk. If I ask you, you’ll either say yes or no. If you say no, then I’m a chump for asking in the first place. If you say yes, well, you may be doing it because you want to, or you may be doing it out of a sense of obligation…and if it’s the latter, then I’m a chump again because I’ve forced you into a situation not of your choosing.

Like George Carlin and the Catholics say, ya gotta wanna…
(I’m glad religion is around becuase it makes the exclamation “Holy Shit!” really funny.)

You know what sounds better to me?

Here, let me man your pinspot for you.

Service to others first, with no expectation. I make the choice to put down my pinspot to man yours, but do not expect you to return the gift, thankful for the chance to move in proximity to a star, or potential star, or star-starter kit…I do not feel ill will if you choose not to man my pinspot, for I cannot presume you to do so nor predicate the interplay ‘twixt human and star upon a bargain, a negotiation…an expectation.

…which is not to say I wouldn’t mind it if you picked mine up. Damn thing’s heavy, you know…and if you don’t pick it up, then while we’re going along here I’ll be holding your and dragging mine along behind…’cause whenever this ends and you leave I’ll need my pinspot where I am so I can pick it up after I drop yours off wherever you wanted it…

…and I wouldn’t even point out that I’m dragging my own pinspot along – what’s important at these moments is keeping your pinspot on you – my pinspot, manned or unmanned, will be just fine.

I hope you’ll pick up my pinspot. I have faith in you – that’s what drove me to man yours…if you don’t man mine, it’s okay…

Not Really Sure -About My Writing, I Think

You sow the seeds of worry
in your furrowed brow
sweat to bead upon your fore
to irrigate the garden floor
deprecating as you toil
manure that will enrich the soil

or

scrunching brow
squinting eye
curling, pained lip
maybe bitten
defiance
disbelief
incredulous

“Ho-?” & you stop the one-word question as the confoundance confounds yet again, each facet its own confounditatutionalistness – the reaction, not the cause

My lips purse more than curl. It’s a timesaver, actually, because
I’m CERTAIN to form a question, you see,
but I’m so dazzled by the overwhelming confounditat-(etc.)
that it’s difficult to single out or formulate one question…but one’s coming…

…and if it ain’t “How?” then it’ll start with a “W”……(pretty much has to)

So my lips purse.
The rest? The brow, yes
the sweat not so much – I’ve little discretionary water to sweat out
the squint, the “wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwWhattheFUCK??” question
stamped on my face.

And it’s a little more intense when it’s your own shit that you’re looking at & getting that reaction. “Yes, fingers, please – move this thing across this surface and make these markings because I intend for them to represent something that’s currently in my brain. Yes, there, there, then that over there. Yes, good….” and so on, then you turn away and come back……and can. not. make. any. sense. of. it.

I get that look on my face
it goes on…this one’s personal

Note: I continue from “Not Really Sure” above…this was written in late April of this year. Many of you might think this a little too ‘close to the bone’ for publication, and have expressed curiosity as to why I would be willing to expose some of my internal struggles here for any and everyone.

I think once I explain my motivation, you’ll see that you already know why.

I do not believe myself to be unique in having these thoughts and questions. What may be unique is the depth and constancy to which I apply my mental discourse to this topic…along with a willingness to “speak” of it out loud…
…not too dissimilar from a willingness to be a piece of public art…
…or a willingness to flail idiotically (your word) with an air guitar.

If I indeed have definition (the “if” keeping it from being an actual assertion, lest I contradict all these musings) then part of that definition is to be the person to do these things that few might be willing to do, and offer this manner of my relating to the world – as it would include THESE questions – to you.

That’s why I do this. And thanks for listening…as always.

Philip

Jul 13, 2007

And now…

continuing the April musing from
I get that look on my face
I’m not sure what to say
I used to think, I think.

Not too long ago I would want to type here and let what’s in my head come out. That desire has waned, for my belief in its creation has weakened.

The unanswered question of the voice, the narrator, and his role/motivation, has been mottled now, for he manifests himself with the words that spring from inside and combine to suggest a cogent thought worthy of expression.

Or so he tells himself….perhaps……

Now, even the words are a mockery, each attempted combination tries now to represent itself to me as a legitimate, worthy, substantive thing that should be made into something that can communicate to someone else. Hit your fingers here, here, here and make these patterns and what you would say out loud let that same combination come out here.
Someone else may, of their own volition (its characteristics irrelevant) choose to look at your patterns for they wish to grasp your notion of relating to the world.

Underneath this interchange communication becomes the manner of that relation, in this context multiple. You relate to the world and communicate the manner of it to others – the receivers of that message (asynchronous) relate to you and, should they choose, reconsider the manner in which they relate to the world. You’re part of a “life vicariously” moment every time you communicate.

A vast cloud obscures still only a portion of the sky
Its contrast and shape widen the vast to vaster
Each spot drilling to a deep colon of knowledge
Unobtained, -able
The roll just a tube’s width
And what are you a fucking poet? Shut up
Or a mouse?

Feels that way sometimes…you should know (as I convince myself you must) that I feel at times a ridiculousness attempting to convey anything here. blahblahblahblahblah…I’d type noises if I could, but I actually think it would take longer (Ever try typing non-English words on purpose? Not easy…)

and goddammit that I’m that malleable and goddammit that I lack enough definition – apparently, and all props to you, always – to maintain my own sense so as not to be influenced and thus that malleable and goddammit goddammit goddammit

Turns out it doesn’t matter how many goddamits I type

Or what words from all that bubble up that I choose to represent here

All that is past me…passes me now…then all that will continue to pass me as I vacillate between capability and incapability, bursts of urgent action interrupting my vexation and inactivity, addictive behaviors sucking my life away and apparently all I’m able to do is wonder why I don’t do something about it.

Something is definitely missing.
And it’s out there.
Past my mind
like everything
’cause I’m so “in” it that I catch nothing

There is something I’m going for in all of this, and it always rings true, a quiet voice that soothes me, assures me of my innocence, reminds me I am of equal virtue as that which I would bestow on others, and waits patiently for me to arrive for it cannot insist…I’ve chained myself

Somehow

Your collective days begin this Wednesday morning, and I hide in my apartment and type here.

Laugh, please.

No, really. Objectively speaking, there’s a lot of material. A couple definitions spring to mind…and that definitions spring to mind is itself ironic, all this loquaciousness now deflated; tragedy lies at the heart of comedy; a cynic finds the tragic comedic past its virtue.

Better still, don’t just laugh…………..mock. taunt. tease.
know your influence and fuel the tank
indulge yourself, if you please

Near as I can figure (which, by the way, comes from comedian Tom Rhodes), in my VAST sum of knowledge (sarcasm being just a cynic in a Hawaiian shirt), only one person’s got it close to right so far, so we’re not batting all that well.

I manage my expectations – by eliminating them.
Seems, perhaps, that I’ve extended that to myself.
I don’t recommend it. (Hicks)

But since we can’t seem to start squirting out Messiahs…
And since collectively, things don’t seem to be all that hunky-dory right now…
Are we merely left to say

To each his or her own indulgences
To each his or her own indifferences
To each his or her own selfishness
To each his or her own choices
Each and all of which, if I am indeed of equal virtue, apply to me as well.

It’s not forgiveness
It’s not powerlessness
It’s not passive, although it comes across like that
And now, a different thought……

I’ve witnessed a lifetime of recklessness and utter disregard in the countless moments when I was alone and accountable only to myself. I’ve witnessed a near-lifetime aware of this and describing myself as “unable to change.” For all the virtue I contain, all the understanding I perceive and bestow, it does not impose its will upon me…for myself.

The deeper you dig the hole, the more you have to fill it with.
(we’ll ignore the prepositional ending – it was flippant)

Say it once, in a single moment, it still sticks and remains. Ain’t like I’m trying to. Happens with a lot of things – movies, songs (solos), comedy routines…

Something lacks.
Even the definition of what lacks, lacks.
(those responsible for sacking those who were to be sacked, have themslves just been sacked. The rest of this narrative will be completed by a horde of Argentenian llama drivers)

For all my purported intelligence, I find myself capable of extraordinarily stupid choices.

For all my profundity and linguistic precision, it seems only a reality of labels implied and inferred, lacking integrity. I doubt my ability to accurately define the reailty of Philip…oh, yeah, and don’t I LOVE that thoughts like that come into my head and they are given weight because they exist. (That’s sarcasm – it’s actually rather numbing and unwanted)

Terrence referred to this as my “mental masturbation,” which gives it a perverse flavor

Isn’t it great that we live in a world where a combination of sounds evokes an emotional reaction? Utter “masturbate” out loud and something will happen in more than a few people – it’s simply evocative. “Selfish” is another one of those words – which I point out because I wish it weren’t the case…

[If we combine this with the whole Archer loosing arrows, we get a guy loosing all these arrows with post-it notes on the ends, some notion hastily scrawled – kinda loses its romance, no? Now it’s more like a chimpanzee flinging cum]

Which leaves us with………..(WAIT for it)
…………………………………………oooo ow ow that smarts a bit

Yeah, no definition.
Damn. (blahblah curseyourlittleheartout)

Yeah, but you knew it, he says
Knew what?
Knew you had no definition; that’s why it stung so much
What do you mean, I knew?
C’mon, can we get real, please?

this is the really fun part – when I use
I’m not saying anything you didn’t already know
on myself

——–wow, this talking it out thing’s gonna suck here for a bit; I don’t want to say it out loud. Damn, and I have all this clarity of speech thing that doesn’t even let me be cryptic. Fuck. Looks like I picked the wrong time to stop being a poet (Airplane!).

Ok, ok, enough of that. “How did you already know you had no definition?” is the question…..some comparative examples:

How many songs do you know?
How many songs have you written?

How many words have come into your head, and now come out of your mouth?
How many words have sprung from inside you and been equally as evocative?

How has your character matched your words?
Where is your body of work?
Where is the consistency of your essence? Just exactly who are you, Philip?

Fuck, let us remind ourselves that the failed speech for H.S. graduation was PRECISELY about that question (at least in general)…

[the idea behind that speech back in 1979 was that we were all just now starting to ask that question differently “Who am I?” – and the REALLY IRONIC part is…the reason my speech wasn’t selected, according to Jerry Boutcher, class president, and despite an eloquent, powerful delivery (natch) was that I didn’t answer the question. You just can’t make this stuff up…]

And why, when put in the class in 8th grade where you could do whatever suited you interest, you were absolutely clueless?

And shall we dance with the whole “passive” concept? No choice, no forward thinking or movement – just reaction, response, falilng backward, all that nonsense…

Mimicry only, a fountain, a waterfall of reee creation to a drip of creation

Each day drips by and you offer……..still………….even while you were “doing that thing that everyone thought was so fascinating”……………nothing. For alone, you are so capable of doing anything – but something that defines you.

The string……ah, yes….the string………a different thought – but not really…

I’ve spoken of “the string” as this thing that I’m following…and for the longest time there was only one thing I could think of that had a little string, and I wasn’t too keen on the visual, for (possibly) obvious reasons…but then I thought of something else, and it made a little more sense with who I am…OR SO HE TELLS HIMSELF

If things turn out in your life where you’re holding one of those little plastic champagne party poppers, then I figure it’s pretty likely that in that moment when you’re pulling on the string to make it go POP! and create sounds and colors and such……then you’re in a pretty good place.

By myself, I am nothing.
………………eh, it gets a little fuzzy and there starts to creep up these little turds of innuendo that I’d rather just sidestep but I can’t so it’s hard to articulate.

indulgence in any form implies malice in some form; it needn’t be inferred.
virtue of the wounded beast

and each day arrives with the past listing off its needs and the future yearning for anticipation and dreams that the moment so filled spills the cup to overflowing again and again that the next moment dabs and dabbles foolishly fillishly fuckhethinkshesapoetagain can’t even finish a goddamm thing ’cause it’s all just words and all just crap.

Splash. Like a turd falling into my drink. (Hicks)
Got nothing. Know nothing. Do nothing. Am nothing.
the archer looses nothing
(the word “loose” being just this close to a bevy of art history jokes)
can’t pull my own string

had I some definition, then perhaps I could be more able to do so
perhaps, with more definition and abillity, I might do something
without someone else wanting me to first

..then he pauses…
…..chuckling…..
let’s rephrase that….

perhaps, with more definition and abillity, I might do something
virtuous without someone else wanting me to first

All this alleged clarity at my fingertips, and I’m Daffy Duck as Robin Hood

Ho!Haha!Guard!Turn!Parry!Dodge!Spin!Ha!Thrust!
(again, nothing my own – always someone else’s)

And tomorrow will be what it will be, for I am powerless
……..unless I’m not. Wow, how much I don’t know.

from Highlander: Prostitute walks into a sleazebag motel room, as seen from afar. She announces, “I’m Candy.” Clancy Brown, as the villianous Khergan, treachorously replies…”Of course you are…”

Guy stands in the bathroom, staring at his reflection.
The reflection says, “I want to start being other people.”

Too dense to be light
Too damned to ascend
Too clear to be obscure
Too little to be big
Too muddied to be clear

Thanks for listening.

Philip