I am tripping more than you are. Battling razzberries

[SadLuckDame]

Speaking to no one other than some demons who've lately haunted my thinkings and trappings...

You're NOT to take the significance of my soul from me, my soul importance and only matterings within this shell of being.

When one like I, am too aware of how little involvement there is to life, or how little matters because all soon does disappear, like just a puff of smoke that was not but mere imagining.

And when even I doubt if other souls might exist, though at least with that one, I've no true assurance and it is left up in the air, phew I'm glad they may exist and they may. Glad not to surely have that answer, quite yet.

But, for one as I, to put little care towards most things others only think on, like bills, the 9 to 5, travel and Disneyland (because this melancholy can exist in the best sorts of places, when just a crowd unaware can ruin a good time, for I'd spend it thinking how unaware they were)...when only I have the utmost importance of bettering my soul! to ready it, to feed it, to look forward to it in better shape than it once was...to get to the end of our illusions with the strength of my insides more able, more beautiful...

that is at least one thing keeping me alive and able to deal with life as illusion...otherwise, I might not have a point to this...what is more scary than not having a point.

It wouldn't matter if I were here any longer, if not for an opportunity to believe Jesus cares for the one small part of me I can agree on, that surely exists, within my otherwise illusion

that I think life is,
that I think my body is...
that I think my breath is...

[stilltrucking]

I don't know Dame
of these things I can only speak for myself.
I got my own personal Jesus
And he is a nigger.
I got a picture of him if you don't believe me.

[SadLuckDame]

I get so freaked out, Jack.

I can picture myself dead in so many ways, and reading Richard Brautigan's An Unfortunate Women, also thinking about Plath and my night spent in her dark room, where demons came by my ear, and Jack, for a night's hour I forgot who I was and what I believed in. I was consumed, and it scared the crap out of me.

Thinking about beautiful Janis, thinking about thinking about what they thought about before they just put the end to it. Creepy thoughts
and I can't help but to think what it is that keeps me alive when things look so not even worth it
and when people who are unaware of the stuff about life being an illusion
the ones who ask me to go tan with them...

(I don't tan, why would I...and that stuff)

I look at them, inside I'm thinking they don't even 'know', but I won't tell them, can't tell them. I just try to explain that I'm more a loner and hang out at home.

Besides, on a good day, I might decide to go tanning just to for no reason. I don't know.

Makes love more important when I think about it--
it's one thing I know existed when dying
the 'heart' puffed up
chirped even
I thought of all those I'd shared 'soul' with or how ever to describe it
and I loved them, knew I loved them when I was dying and transforming. If they weren't real it still didn't matter, it did matter to share 'soul' to have loved, that truly mattered.

If I'm to spend a night with the black camel, whom haunted me the one night in Plath's room, when the black camel wrapped her long neck about me in a strangulation, causing me to forget whom I was, or what I was about...to be able to go to someone I'd loved at that moment and let their presence remind me the 'why' or the 'who' I was...

Still I'm rambling.
I'm ramblin'
more later.

I'm so glad you've a personal Jesus
just relieved you have the 'it' that keeps you going, whoever he or 'it' is.

And maybe that's the point of all this thinking I'm on today...
if Janis or Richard or Plath, etc.
the ones who knew by the end that this life is a joke
and all the insignificance
but if they knew the joke had reason
that the soul could become beautiful during
the importance that lies there-in
what if that was what happened...
that they knew the scary reality of all of this
except not had some soothing reassurance it's all for reason...

Sadly though, they could have known and possibly it was just one night spent with the black camel's long entwining neck, causing a strangulation like I'd experienced, and just momentarily for an hour or so, forgot entirely who they were or why,

which scares the crap out of me the most,

[SadLuckDame]

In this book--he's on and off staying in this house of the unfortunate woman who hung herself.

Shortly after writing this book, he'd killed himself.

I have suddenly a lot of feeling.
Always I have emotions, but I'm so much an indifferent personality, that sad things seem a given to living and I don't have much feeling on it, it's as if it's expected or something, but today I'm thinking I'm feeling.

[SadLuckDame]

And one more ramble...

It's about this book.
I'm reading it and trying to look for hints towards what he was feeling at the time, since he wrote it before dying, and I'm trying to piece it together, etc.

What I'm noticing though is no matter where he is or goes or does, because he too knows the lack of importance to many things or places, basically he's in a tropical get away but can't escape that melancholy feeling, the shadow follows, and that sort of thing. All because he knows
and I too know, what I'm dealing with.

[stilltrucking]

I need so time to get back to you. My eyes are getting weaker, my glasses are over two years old & it is a hell of a strain on my eyes to read off the screen. I saved your post going to print it out and post back to you later today.
Let me just give you a quote for now.

From the dedication page of book called
The Denial of Death by Ernest Becker

To the memory of my beloved parents, who unwittingly gave me—among other things—the most paradoxical gift of all:
a confusion about heroism.

[SadLuckDame]

Thanks for that, Jack
I just looked it up.

Don't know why I go nuts like this when not distracted by work.
The catfish is brilliant, once he told me I needed to get a job that was rewarding, cause I needed that give and take. He was so right. I love the rewards of it.

Now just to figure out my week-ends and vacations. If I only had a dance partner to learn the cha-cha with. I might be all set.

Only thing I can think of,
that and making love, but too much obstacles to get past.

[SadLuckDame]

Oh, Jack...
sorry for tiring your eyes

I won't promise I won't do it again tonight or tomorrow, and I guess I'll go, "Sorry in advance."

[stilltrucking]

I need a new Rx for glasses, I don't think it is your fault dame. I got hook up a printer.

I don't think about suicide much anymore. One of the blessings of longevity I guess. I am not in a hurry anymore.

For a long time, even now I can't wear a turtle neck sweater, a legacy of something that happened in 1948.

For a long time, even now I can't wear a turtle neck sweater, a legacy of something that happened in 1948.

That's a pretty shitty sentence I think.

[stilltrucking]

I had to disconnect my printer yesterday and it is out in the car. I have not printed it out yet.

in the mean time

http://the-wanderling.com/death.html

That painting Metaphysical Landscape,, to me it seemed like a window in the sky, I have often wished I would die outside looking at the sky. But I don't think it really matters, I mean my romantic ideas about a "good death"



Sorry I am rambling
write at you latter. HOpe to get the printer hooked up to night and work on a reply.

I hardly ever think about sex anymore. Probably no more that maybe every six seconds
Bennie2 on GO
"men think about sex evey six seconds
http://www.studioeight.tv/phpbb/viewtop ... +think+sex

[stilltrucking]

women feel sex every second judih on GO
http://www.studioeight.tv/phpbb/viewtop ... =women+sex

My eyes feel rested i had a nap but even so I want to print it
deconstruct it.

I wonder what that means
deconstruct?

[SadLuckDame]

Means you want to tear it up, and maybe you should, it was all just rambling and I didn't even stop to edit it out. It was such a mess, but I was such a mess at the time.

I feel fine now, been thinking about feeling sex.
I prolly shouldn't say it like that.

What else should I say though? I was thinking about people dying, I felt like crap
and now I'm thinking about people feeling like screwing and I feel great again.

[stilltrucking]

I thought was pretty interesting
I can't hardly remember much about it right now
You were wondering what plath was thinking when she killed herself?
What Brautigan was thinking?

When I was thinking about suicid a lot a few years ago when I had that Cat scan that found the mysterious thing down in my lung I was thinking about a tidy suicide like Lew Welch more than a messy one like Brautigan.

I feel fine now, been thinking about feeling sex.
I prolly shouldn't say it like that.

Probably not
delete it if you think you should.

[jackofnightmares]

When ever anyone talks about suicide I take them at their word.

It was not Mae West who said that
it was George Santayana another hero of mine.
I just got weird sense of humor. It kind of sounded like something West might have said to what's his name the comedian shit I can't think of his name

W.C. Fields

[SadLuckDame]

Well even if I did delete it, it's still in yours, so I'll just leave it.

Whenever I wrote anything about it, the catfish would run off.
I tried to drown out that madonna, she was messing with my libido.