Tag Archives: Meaning of life

Hughman Flaws

At times, I feel like a convict. It is difficult for to participate in the daily push and grind like I used to. Well, back then when I was younger, with a better metabolism and boundless curiosity, I felt I had my future in front of me. Of course there is no exception that I was to have taken those years for granted, as is the charge for most people. Now that I’m older, the word cholesterol incorporated into my universe, and most of my questions answered -I have to live. Life now feels like a sentence I must serve from a fraudulent conviction.

I’m not angry nor am I depressed. I wish I were sometimes because of the fun pills they give you. But like most citizens of my country, I don’t have health insurance. There’s always the odd Mary Jane facility scattered around Los Angeles, but Mary Jane was never good to me. It was never an enjoyable experience when we were together, so I split. Then there’s the street pharmacist that’s got the upper hands. They’re dealings are more frowned upon because movies made them out to be villains almost all the time. Funny thing is most of the actors in those movies usually had the upper hand. Until the 1920’s that stuff was more like cognac and caviar.

I know what it is. It’s the masses that bother me. They really stress my sentence more than necessary. These days everyone’s goal is to get a degree, doesn’t matter which, to convey that they can take orders and think inside their specific box of expertise -just so they can enlist in the army of managers, as Huxley once quipped. The taste of power is begets an even worse addiction than any pharmaceutical debaucheries. They steal the best years of everyone’s lives, and that’s somehow okay. Okay. They call it capitalism or something and say it’s a right. Or was it a privilege, I forget.

I really don’t mind, though. A life is only worth something if it is lived for someone else. To the enslaved workforce they’re worth something to the managers, but to the slave they’re worth something for their wives, or husbands, or kin. Just for the right to live. I don’t think it has to be that way, but I didn’t enlist anywhere, so my words have no clout. So they say, at least. I don’t mind because I don’t really have someone to live for. Not even some thing, like a cause or whatever. It wasn’t a choice for me. Then again, it really isn’t a choice for most. Until I find someone, or some thing, I will live with decadence until death because it truly is the only way to respect one’s own livelihood. Who knows, maybe decadence was the intention for humanity all along.

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Pick a flower, any flower

I’ve been guilty of living just to survive. I’ve broken much including countless sweats when I had no means left upon which to validate my ticket to live life by another’s standards. Dante didn’t write a consequential vision he saw with Virgil, but of the place our day to day drudgery propagates. A life of servitude to the notion of survival is full of shit compared to a life of living among the humdrum.

Show me a sick and withering flower and I will heal it. Show me a vine of grapes and I will show you how I will turn water into wine. Show me a field of grass and I will show you how I walk on water. Show me a matter of fact and I will show you magic carried in the wind. And you bet that sweet ass of yours it’ll be a good show. Buk always said it was hard to be surprised once you’ve already seen hell. It’s that little pattern that I used to convince myself was the beanstalk of which to climb. This is the secret I’m not allowed to share because there isn’t much room on the bus, and frankly, my sisters and I don’t believe you’ve got the mind to stowaway to paradiso.

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