Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Dear Friends

I am in a world of shit

I have to go back to where I was 45 years ago and do what worked then.

It is the only way.

Move away

From everyone I know.


Not a teary farewell, I wish I could cry but I can't.

I won't let myself.


I suppose I should get another dog, but I can't even take care of myself.

A miracle I have lived to be this old.

It is about time.

I will get over this.

Thanks for the good times and the bad times.

It was all beautiful.

I will be back when I stop slapping myself upside the head.

If you miss me I suggest you read

A Confederacy of Dunces By John Kennedy Toole

He wrote my life.

You know what? I feel better already.
_________________________________________-


Sorry about this one mingo
I deleted it because I am in a rough patch right now
no need to bring anybody down with me.

it is a bitch being alone again. After 28 years of a solitary existence I had this little furry critter as a room mate. Found myself saying to myself, "I got nobody to come home to." No he could have lived longer if I had taken better care of him. I needed the money to undo my neglect of him.

That is the fact jack.

I tell ya mingo I might have to borrow your shotgun the way I feel. Paint my face on one of those milk jugs of yours.

So the old Spainard said.

"Perhaps the only true dignity of man is his capacity to despise himself."

thanks for the advice though

I got to go but my friend can stick around.
Keep the shinny side up.

We finally made it the cemetary this year.

I watched her standing at the foot of her mother's grave.

And I am thinking I can't even

or I am barely able to deal with the death of a dog.

and I try to remember the funeral 24 years ago.

And I wonder what she is thinking standing there.

My sister my self.

Friday
A typical sceen for us. I am standing in the subshop ordering a sandwhich and she is saying "I don't want to eat hear" I am ignoring her and she keeps saying it so I put my fingers in my ears and order my sub. I look around and she is gone. I ask the cashier if she left. Yep. So I go out and...

I mean for chritz sake I am actually standing there all two hundred and fifty full bearded pounds of me with my fingers in my ears like six year old.

so anyway I find my self, sans wool hat, sans jacket and try to figure out how to get home.

Reading a book I bought for 25 cents

<center>THE
SCARLET
TREASURY
of</center>
<center>Great
Confessions

The Most famous self-revelations of all time selected and edited by Whit Burnett</center>
<center>***********************</center>

A bit from Ecce Homo
Nietzsche writing about his sister.
Jesus H Chirstz
I never knew that. No wonder she built that cult around him.

My relationship with my sister is so boring compared to his.

So it wasn't so bad after all I called her on the cell phone and she came back and picked me up.
I asked her if she always has this problem with her husband about deciding where to eat. She says no. Is it because he is paying or because they communicate with each other better.

My own fault for not making a decision over and over, a guy chick thing I guess. We ride around and around while she tries to decide where she wants to eat. This happens everytime but lately I been trying to get her to decide I am fucking with her mind. It was my birthday she was taking me out, it was my call. Me being an assw=hole. But she was hungry and she has type II diabetes, said she was feeling faint. I just wanted her to eat already. I should have not been playing mind games on her. Oh well, we got over it. I used to fear that one time we will get so angry at each other that we will never speak again. But no one knows me better than this woman. Her mother herself my sister myself.



I wish I had thought about this bit, maybe next time I will.

“According to Kundera, “being” is full of “unbearable lightness” because each of us has only one life to live: “Einmal ist Keinmal” (”once is never”, i.e., “what happened once might as well have never happened at all”). Therefore, each life is ultimately insignificant; every decision ultimately does not matter. Since decisions do not matter, they are “light”: they do not tie us down. But at the same time, the insignificance of our decisions - our lives, or being - is unbearable. Hence, “the unbearable lightness of being.” (quote from Wikipedia)

She is my karma
The only karma I got left with any woman
If I have any reason at all to get up in the morning
besides breakfast
it is her.

i saw the movie “the unbearable lightness of being” and for the life of me (i wonder why that's a common thing to say?) i haven't a clue as to what the movie was about. i seem to recall a scene or two that verged on a psychedelic experience, but maybe not.

i probably saw that flick under the inhalations of some weed. it used to provide a contented viewing experience but as far a remembering anything about what i saw when stoned is tremendously dubious. pot was always a very 'now' time that meant little an hour later, if anything at all. i don't miss it and i'm positive it doesn't miss me. there's plenty of folks out there that have taken my place.

I have never seen the movie or read the novel. I just stumbled on the quote from this thread.


You only live twice

which lead me to this quote

The world is an eternal process of coming to be and passing away, where origin and end of the process seem to become fleeting vanishing points.
When there is no final point, no destination, eventually every combination of matter and energy will be realized and repeated and infinite number of times - an escheresque return, a neverending groundhog day.

If a past event is experienced as a future one, it is recognized as something we already know, as something we have experienced before, and therefore, as a repetition.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/panta/2252 ... 544970296/

.

"Cut me loss Let me fly
after all these years I am still alive" jitterbug

What keeps me down
What holds me in place
So that I don't fly off into space

http://www.brautigan.net/memoirs.html

hu'manity's journey

?

Brautigan's suicide was hard for me, so sad
It just did not jibe with his work
I wondered if I had helped drive him to it.

I am not even sure it was him I met that day in Baltimore.

For some reason I remember the last poem he wrote,
Or maybe it was not the last poem he wrote,
Maybe it was just the last poem of his I read.
The poem was about a friend of his who was down and out and went to the mission for something to eat. They gave him a sandwich that consisted of a two slices of bread and a piece of lettuce
Maybe the poem was about him

So many maybes for me this morning

hey tarbaby! you owe me a five spot.

Ah Dino
if looks could kill
I would be a mass murderer

I forgot about the five spot, but don't worry the check's in the mail.

I've saved all my Brautigan books. I intend to read them once again as if I never read them in the first place. I want that charge to run thru my imagination like an electric punch in the nose. He was very special.

<center>hu'manity</center>
I wrote a Stream some time back where I wrote the word, hu'mind. Yesterday, hu'manity came up and I thought it gelled quite nicely with hu'mind... even tho I (obviously) didn't use that word in this Stream. But that's the way of mind and men...

Fells Point
Baltimore Maryland
He was very tall
He had a beautific smile

The Abortion, An Historical Romance
eased my mind during a difficult time.

i wonder what he was doing in balto? did u talk with him at all?

I don't know if it was him Cecil. Just looked like him, but I did not recognize him till later on.

No we never said a word to each other, we were walking in opposite directions and passed by each other. He smiled at me and I glared at him.

I was very stoned at the time.

Such a friendly smile. I don't know why I remembered it, but I do. This was in the seventies.

When I heard about his death I was shocked. I never knew anything about him except from his books and poetry that I loved. It seemed out of character to me that he would kill himself.

So I was wondering about your stream and the fact that you said he reached his potential.

I have heard he left a suicide note that read:
"Messy, isn't it".

I was stunned and saddened at his suicide.

Rest in Peace Dear Mr. Brautigan, thank you for your beautiful work that you left us.

I can't say if you reached your potential or not.

I like this poem which was written for

"For the post-mortem amusement of Richard Brautigan"

Abhorrences
November 10, 1984

There's only one natural death,
and even that's Bedcide
For the post-mortem amusement of Richard Brautigan

Death by over-seasoning: Herbicide
Death by annoyance: Pesticide
Death by suffocation: Carbon monoxide
Death by burning: Firecide
Death by falling: Cliffcide
Death by hiking: Trailcide
Death by camping: Campcide
Death by drowning: Rivercide
Lakecide
Oceancide
Death from puking: Curbcide
Death from boredom: Heartcide
Death at the hands of the medical profession: Dockcide
Death from an overnight stay: Inncide
Death by surprise: Backcide
Death by blow to the head: Upcide
Death from delirious voting: Rightcide
Death from hounding: Leftcide
Death through war: Theircide & Ourcide
Death by penalty: Offcide
Death following a decision: Decide

http://www.brautigan.net/tributes.html

.

Here is another link to a memorial page to him.
THere is also a link to his daughter's book which was a called
"You Can't Catch Death: A Daughter's Memoir"

http://www.brautigan.net/memoirs.html