Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

around
to die


So I keeps myself occupied________________________
administrative costs of medicare versus private insurance

http://krugman.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/0 ... ive-costs/

http://www.heritage.org/research/healthcare/wm2505.cfm

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I cut myself loose
adrift I am
so lost so god dam lost
I call the wind Mariah.

It is all hyper reality to me these past million years or so.
Ever since the first artists/shamans painted their cave walls

We are the crown of creation
The universe revolves about us

And I am trying to get out of It.

" In Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance , Robert Pirsig describes quite precisely our discomfort and hesitation when we first suspect the bondage of our every existence."

They talk once in a while in as few pained words as possible about "it or "it all" as in the sentence "There is just no escape from it" And if I asked "From what?" the answer might be, "The whole bit" or "The whole organized bit, or even "The system" ...I was embarrased to ask what "It" was and so remained somewhat perplexed"

I call "It" culture. The exo-biological womb we are born into.
Our religions, art, literature, mythologies, mores.

S: (n) mores ((sociology) the conventions that embody the fundamental values of a group)

Culture is not illusory, movie-theater projection of bodily "drives' or "instincts." nor is the body a metaphor; wholly constructed by culture. Culture is as biologically real for humans as the body. Unless in a coma, we are always both culture bearers and bodies at ever moment.

Achilles In Vietnam

I, too, was waiting once, I don't know what I'm more about today than yesterday. I do know I'm trying to reflect more, and connect what my worth is here and now or how I can be of use if I've any use left or ever did. Also trying to find my spirit mostly; the fruits there-in and enhance them better.

That is all I know I'm doing, maybe waiting, but if so it's less noticeable than previously when it seemed it was the only thing to do in hours.

What's my worth in IT, what's in me to offer on and I don't know truly, when I go to think of it I come up plain, ordinary, but I'm getting glimpses. I'm so small, but today I'm o.k. with it.

I'm worried to write you, you've a temper? or what is it, then I give out a letter or something to that effect. I wish I were more than I am, but the proportions are just a figment of the imagination.

Then, I go to look at what I've written and I'm not sure I've written anything.
Ha! It's a crazy cycle...submit.

You look what you written?

Yeah I sometimes read this crap I write.

Temper, yeah it so digital with me. That is why I avod certain pharmaceuticals.

Taken me seventy years to get a grip on my blood lust.
God knows I could not have survived in combat

The selective service board knew what they were doing when they certifiemd me unfit for military service.

My life is over
I just gave it up
never going to sail that forty foot ketch to Scotland
not going to drive that grind prix race in Watkins Glen
and the ultimate orgasm has come and gone

so I sit and type
and wait