The Color Of Pomegranates  1969

Something just crept out of my hazy head. It may be poetry, but idk:

She is the one person that fucks me up, muddles my mind, twists my soul, and, on any given day, pushes me to a point where I could easily find myself fucking wringing that delicately deceptive neck of hers until she is several shades of blue. But then, if I succumbed to that easy passage, I would surely lose her stare, her hot breath, her sharp fucking eyebrows, the thrill of her lyrical laughter, her lunacy, her drill-bit stare of disdain, her slow digestion of my spirit, and the redemption I've come to crave each and every fucking dawn I rise to my knees, without her, yet always with her...

I revel in that intoxication...

[Author's Note: Yeah, I'm THAT fucking train wreck...]

I'll leave this 👆 here... You Decide 🤔

So that's how the elephant keeps getting in...

Eddie Cochran!

Casually cruising the 'Net this morning after watching a sunrise in splendid (yet regrettable) solitude this morning, I rediscovered these images. Beyond the ultimate tragedy that I know lies beyond in this story, it still stirred that romantic solar flare in my heart. Am I the only one that believes kissing is the most sensuous, most erotic, most erogenous of all physical expressions of love and intimacy?

I hope the answer is no. I might weep otherwise...

Heaving heart is full of pain Oh, oh, the aching ‘Cause I’m kissing you, oh I’m kissing you

What do you serve as a side dish with this entree? Strained peas and carrots?

Nothing else need be said. Roll on, and rise above. Period.

My entire existence, for the past 20+ years or so, has been built upon this same premise...

This whole blog is just a conversation I am having with myself

Demokritus in Meditation (detail) by Salvator Rosa, c. 1615-73.

It always amuses me to see the emotionally unstable become more unstable when they don't get the things that they demand. It's like watching a tantrum-prone child just start turning red and shaking and drooling and screaming until they pass out or rupture blood breaks in their face. It's disturbing to see the first time, but after the fifth or sixth time, the novelty has worn off and is rather boring. Same thing with this latest incarnation of SJW, this brigade that's appointed themselves to be the militant guard who will take down capitalism and institute mandatory socialism, even if it means giving up their rights to start turning red, shaking, drooling, and screaming when the stormtroopers began rounding everyone up and sticking them in little boxes...

Go ahead, boycott everything, stage sit-outs (the more impactful protest where one turns their back on society and waits it out in the desert), and withhold your brilliance and beautiful screeching voices from the world and the bad people in it, until those bad people are driven to their knees and capitulate, and the perfect world you've demanded is magically and dutifully dropped at your precious feet.

We miserables will have to learn to manage, somehow, without you...

…well except he promised that if the WFP was transparent about how it would use the $6 billion to solve world hunger and they never did.