I often think that a lobotomy would do me well, make me just a slug in life, off to work, home again, drink myself to sleep, repeat. But I can never get my heart into giving that a real try. Actually, I rarely have my heart into anything. My life seems to be made up of all words and very little action. A thinker perhaps? A dim witted thinking middle manager of a small business more likely. Passions to me are fleeting like the chemtrails on the wind, there for a moment, fragile, and easily blown away, only to be replaced and have the cycle repeat again, and again, and again.
Sure, I have words, but what else. A place to stay, no car, no bed, no career, some clothes, and all the while I keep looking for love and peace. Love and peace will never pay my bills, never get me the round the world trip, never make me happy, unless of course the answer is love and peace will lead to all those things I desire. I seem to have spent so much of my life thinking one way about how things ought to be that it is hard for me to think otherwise much less the direct opposite of that which I have so engraved in this grey matter called my mind.
Should I prevail, as I sometimes have like sun breaks in a storm, I could see some value from these moments of my life. I know of natives having such things as rain dances, but what about a sun dance? Is that what reaggea and the ganja is for? Lets all pray for sun, the real son, the life giving warming soothing ball of fire in the sky.
Sure this is a rambling non linear non edited workings of a man possibly gone mad, but only mad men are known throughout history, rarely do the meek and mild make overall impacts in the universe. So let me be mad, and God give me the strength to be mad in all areas of my life, no matter whom I am with nor where I stay. Madness is any of several ailments of animals marked by frenzied behavior, and man is surely an animal of the most fiercest sort. So as it is written, so shall it be done.

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