Love People, Use Things

My most productive time, in my estimation, has been what might be perceived as time wasted. I was born for pandemic times. 

Over the years, I've been allowed into several groups, peripherally. Old money gave me a shot. Funny, because, by definition, it's a closed loop. Of course my socialist preaching got me kicked out of that one over time. I like to think that I would have abandoned them if they hadn't kicked me to the curb first.

What do you do with a journalist who can't type. an artist who can't paint, a poet who won't rhyme, a seeker who doesn't believe? In my defense, in some ways, I believe it all.

The notion of advanced placement came along just as I was coming of school age. Testing results had me in accelerated or advanced classes from the start. Those truly brainy kids always knew I didn't belong there. I seem to have puzzled and disappointed a long line of teachers along the way, too.

I suppose I could go on about my love life or my music career, business interests or investment history. I don't mean to brag.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

 

God's Henhouse

Would you trade your memories for more time? Friend, I never even bargained with the devil to play guitar better. Inadequacy is my strong suit. Makes other folks feel good about themselves.

Knowing that I'm the end of this genetic road is, somehow, comforting.

Now I know that I was never meant to marry. Of course it took some marrying to figure it out and I apologize to those affected. All I ever really wanted, I suppose, was a blood brother or sister. Can't stand the sight of blood, though.

 

Jitterbugs and Fireflies

 

Some of us do more with borrowed stardust than others. On some days I strive to be kind, and on some, I strive to be me. On my best days I don't think about it. I hope I'm kind.

Wind and rain take care of the ashes, but what about the memories?

These guitars still have some melodies in them. If only these stories rhymed.

Any Organization That Will Have Me

Is there any such thing as an empath? Is limerence a real thing? Earlier in my life, I knew folks who were schizophrenic. Diagnosed. Official. 

Seems to be a rarer breed these days. Bipolar disorder is a lot more fashionable, at least in my circles- if, in fact, I traveled in circles. 

Forget plastics, Ben. If you wanna sleep with Mrs. Robinson or her daughter; if you long to be a movie star or launch a cult- study linguistics. You just need to know what to call yourself.

 

Nobody's Passion Lasts Forever

 

Seems I've always scoffed at relationships without flames. Here's to the ones who knew better. There's only one ending and it's not happy. 

Get to know yourself and offer your unfiltered love to everybody you meet. 

That's all. Really.

 

Count The Days

 

I knew that when the medicine ran out, it would be over. She would have no refills. Sure enough. The pain was obvious and she was ready to go. This time of year brings those memories and they mingle and mix with the joyous holiday festivities. 

The good time memories take the edge off. She was my girl.

Sunday School Lessons

 

Seems that I paid more attention in Sunday school than I thought. Guess I was listening more closely than I knew to all of those rhythm and blues records. I never forgot a single promise that I made in the throes of love, either.

These are good times for getting better at forgetting.