The Big Crunch

Alright. Today is almost Monday and I am at an undisclosed location, spitting distance from the Pacific in one of the less hectic areas of the city. I do this a lot because, I don't know, it works out like that. Hospitable friends that are like family.

So, I have to be at rendezvous O in the resort type place where I can swim when the day is over. One of the perks of the job. I have to say, I very much like working there. I have no explanation for it except that it may involve something to do with beauty, freedom, and who knows what. It is not a status job, but who can even define my job? I can't. I be me and piddle around with things and make things better when I see the need and it is agreed. Usually, people agree.

OK. I have to be there tomorrow because there are other subs coming in to fix the broken thing that God only knows how the King and his concubine manage to break it. He is gone now and no telling when he or members of his court will return. Good thing about kings is that they often have enough money to keep people like me going, and they don't quibble. That is why I fear this talk coming from truly greedy rich people like Kennedy and Obama and others regarding "the rich" as if they are bad. Dammit, we are all better off if the rich stay rich or get richer. They spend that stuff like crazy.

The trouble is, I have only until Thursday to get my ballistic bachelor pad clean and sparkling. It is only one gigantic room, which is not that gigantic. Even so, you'd be surprised how many hours of thought meditation and despondency can go into a job like that, l;et alone the time it takes to actually perform the task. I'd say a month is barely adequate.

The problem was made a little worse when the blue car bit the dust. It was heavily loaded, I now realize, with tools, buckets full of secret teak techno things, and numerous heavy drop cloths and tarps. I heart heavy cotton canvas drop cloths.

Now my house is full of all those things, boxes, etc., plus dust dirt, blood stains I probably missed as I walked around bleeding on the floor and did not know it for awhile. A lot of it has glass bits from the wreck. Every time I move something I find bits of glass from my dearly departed car that was my favorite car of all time. Even more favorite than the '69 Datsun 1600 roadster which transported me from life in Florida to a new world in North Carolina. One should not love things. But a good car that suits you is a pleasure.

Oh boy, clean the stupid house and I have never cleaned the windows or blinds. I should do it because they may have accumulated some dust, considering that dust is the number one element in those hills. Then I have to think about washing clothes.

The lengths to which a crazy guy will go, just so a possible visitor doesn't think he is the slacker he is, well it is something. I'm just glad I actually give a damn. I'd shut off a part of myself for so long, I was almost worried. Not that worried. Not as worried as the thought of cleaning house makes me.

I'll probably get it done on Thursday, then Friday I will have a clear conscience. Due to the nature of things, no telling if the visiting dignitary will even get out there. I'll be the chauffeur so I guess kidnapping is an option. Another adventure.

When you think about it, things are good. I have a house to clean up, a visiting dignitary who just might want to go there and check out my didgeridoo, and I have no idea how the visit will unfold anyway due to all the myriad of factors. That is often the case with VIPs. Probably better, in my case, not to have advance notice of a set itinerary. That sort of structure would really make me nervous.

I'm almost official. All I'm waiting for is Ahnold to mail me my regular driver's license. In the mean time, I am driving on a paper that is temporary something or other. When it arrives I'll start calling everyone "Dude" and become very concerned about the earth and people smoking in public parks and such.

Change I can Believe In; at the Crossroads

Nothing any thug politician can promise, other than staying out of my life and everyone else's, could possibly qualify. Change I can believe in has to do with things internal as well as my attitude toward, and manifestation of, things external. It is not what others do but how I respond inside and out. That came to mind because some things that have happened lately would have consumed me more in the past. El Cajon Highway Patrol lying would be one of those. I'll go on with life, and simultaneously deal with the matter, rather than being eaten up by it night and day, as I dream of lightening striking them repeatedly. Or worse, much worse. I've got better stuff to fill my dreams.

Other things come to mind as well. I try to keep in mind that much younger people haven't had some of the experience and opportunity for repetitive trial and error, or just error and error, that I have. Forgetting the road along the way to the point that you can't empathize or comprehend the obsession with the stupid, self defeating, and unimportant which plagues most people from about age 10 to maybe 46.5, on average, is something I try not to do.

Since the truth of me is actually an expreme exaggeration of such misguidedness for a great many years, even beyond age 46.5, I feel it a matter of integrity and compassion to understand and appreciate others who have some shred of the idiocy I had at their age. Not to say I was an idiot in all ways, I was not. However that little disclaimer does bring me to the point that accepting the truth and allowing others to discover for themselves, somehow is tied to self esteem.

Highly controlling people have a curious insecurity I think; a tenuous hold, at best, on positive self image. Either that or they honestly think in ways only sociopaths, and government officials think.

Elitism, in that sense-- the sense we see unfolding in cities, states, the UN and in DC---actually could be argued as a form of sociopathy. If you believe you know best for the little unimportant masses, and that it is your job to control and dictate who sacrifices what and when, then you are obviously oblivious to the pain of those people, and have no remorse resulting from causing them harm.

That is because an elitist does not view all mankind as having equal right to make their own decisions within the framework of not screwing up the rights of others. Therefore, the masses aren't real people like, say Nancy Pelosi, but useful idiots whose existence is best described as a privilege granted by their betters.

You may think this has nothing to do with compassionate understanding when observing young punk kids trying to find life after public school, destructive TV, and the stupid wrong opinions and theories of their friends. I think it has everything to do with it.

To recognize the natural evolution life allows one if he is lucky is one thing. But to also have the gift of being aware of the larger forces at play and the changes they have brought in our lives, as well as the extreme influence they've had on the world view of younger people, paints a rather clearer picture. It s hard to fault someone for not knowing things when they've been lied to about those things or had no exposure at all.

Whether crimes against children have really gone up exponentially since the fifties and sixties, I do not know. I do know the actual freedom and autonomy of children has decreased exponentially since then. Of course, in some areas, young kids do drugs, so what the hell. I would still argue that the laws, programs and police priorities tend to promote that sort of thing when it could have and should have been squashed early on.

No, it was (and is) easier to just scream "DRUGS", and spend the seventies arresting potheads who didn't bother with kids or guns or anything else. Another case of left and right working hand in hand.

The left promoted demeaning programs to create lifelong dependence and ignore reality, and insisted a slimeball's actions were everyone else's fault, and the right went gung ho, happy for an arrest, even if the real problems were being ignored, and the real bad elements left to grow.

Just like now. Everyone is told who to view as the enemy, and the dumbasses are buying it. And the 20 year olds and even 30 year olds have no concept what it was like before free speech became the extremely dangerous exercise it is becoming. Unless they had a rare teacher along the way, they probably have no clue what it really means, or what the term "rights" actually means. Hell most of the people of all ages are clueless about that, but the baby boomers on up have no excuse but their own weak integrity.

Whatever goes on in that realm, I do have sympathy for kids who worry that their choice of the moment is somehow forever, or who wonder what it is they should be doing. The lucky ones see the path and just stick to it. Maybe it takes both types for the world to turn. The less certain probably have wilder dreams and when they are lucky, their nerve and faith are up to the task of chasing the dream in earnest. That situation is not confined to any age bracket.

That's the good thing about dreams, time is nothing, and no one, yet, can say you are not allowed to dream if you are a certain age. Never too young, and never too old. Most dreamers don't dream of health care, I'm betting. They just don't, unless they are in need or need a cure as yet undiscovered. It takes a dreamer to find the cure, and most cures are found by people who never had the disease.

Something about that which I don't think most people get. That's why I bring these things up.

And because I want to keep saying this country has undergone a coup while I can still do so without being arrested. It has and it started long ago, but no question about it, Obama has taken it to a new level; he and his gang behind the scenes. The man is as owned as anyone prior. Just the way it is.

It takes a special kind of person to so happily fill that role. It is one of the enduring themes of literature; the deal with the devil, selling one's soul, or personal integrity, for glory, vanity, riches, etc. Happens every day. Only time it worked out well for the rest of us was when Robert Johnson got his musical mojo at the Crossroads. I've been to that very spot, and not so far from midnight, either. Since the specific spot is mildly debated, I tried to find all the possible ones. I think I was at the exact one--got my reasons for thinking so...

You just never know, do you?