Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Blow Up The Moon

Here's what happens when you start the wine too early. Please allow me random thoughts without any attempt at sentences or grammar.

The genes that I'm proud of, the recessive ones, are almost done. I'm one of one and an artist's proof at that. Fine.

Social media is the place to remind yourself that folks like war. Well, the "good ones." They like the "good wars." Keep watching. They don't like many of Buckminster Fuller's ideas. They're suspicious of Mahatma Ghandi and Bertrand Russell, too. 

Seems to me that folks, most folks, are only happy in shackles. Just don't tell them that they're in shackles.

You know, every minute that I'm not with Jamaica is a minute wasted. Every bit of love that I give her is for all of you, too. You're all my valentines. Illegal aliens, street people, prisoners, misfits and the socially awkward. Oh, I love all you others, too. Maybe not quite as much but I love you. Happy Valentine's Day.

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