From: A Midsummer's Night Dream

PUCK. If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumb'red here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend.
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call.
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

~Shakespeare

A Quote From a Book on a Webpage

"How good it can feel to regain perspective. Our feeling of confinement as narrow, limited, isolated entities begins to dissolve as we take a few steps back and recognize that who we are is "this . . and also . . and also . . and also (multiple personas, roles, models). Moving in and out of these various identities, each is "real" only at the moment we are invested in it. A moment later it may not be relevant at all. We see, in other words, the relative reality of these various identities, "real" only in relation to the situation which calls them forth. But if all of our identities are only relatively real, coming and going as circumstance warrants, is there any part of us that remains steady and stable behind all our roles? If we observe our own minds at work, we see that behind all these identities is a state of awareness that incorporates them all and yet is still able to rest behind them. As we loosen the hold of each identity so that we don't get completely lost in it, we are able to remain light and loose - able to play among these various aspects of being without identifying exclusively with any. We don't have to be anybody in particular. We don't have to be "this" or "that." We are free simply to be. . . . We experience the versatility of our being and the independence of our awareness, opening up the windows of our little homes and letting in a little cross ventilation. . . Humor serves to support this awaking perspective."

The book was "How Can I Help" perhaps by Ram Dass

Sophie and her Jokes

My four year old (Sophia) has begun withthe concepts of jokes here as of late. My last couple of dates with her, I didn't write any of them down and I am absolutely STOOPID when it comes to remembering jokes. I can't even remember tasteless ones. However, in lieu of my rememberance, Katie has sent me an email in in there, there was this Sophie gem:

Why did the chicken cross the road?

-Because he's not a bear.

Sure, she may have to fine tune that one. It's a little rough, but give her some time. That's all for the day.

RETARDED, DISFIGURED CLOWN

Learning to love life by living through loss and mistakes
Lessons learned then gradually surfacing
Letting go, stripping naked to scream
I am not perfect, nor do I strive to be
I am alive in this world of face-first falls and public breakdowns
I'm a retarded, disfigured clown
Dying to be heard for the simple art of letting this heavy wall finally fall
I'm an equal being of no race or color
A hallucination if you will
Sneaking into the lives of strangers and letting them fall apart
To a new rhythm, just to feel better

BLUE OCTOBER - www.blueoctober.com

- - - - -

I have taken down a bunch of old posts and will be re-vamping some things in the near future. Clearly, this is a sign of something to come. If you have a preferential favorite and would like to tell me about it, or would like to see something returned that isn't there anymore, then please do inform me and I'll consider it. No promises. If it comes down to brass tax (whatever tax on brass is these days), I'll send you a copy of what you'd like.

A Year Ago Today

A year ago today, I was a different man
with a different plan, looking out at a new world,
my banner furled, my feelings curled inside
until I went wild and died, until I cried foul and lied
to my mother, my brother, my enemy's druthers
the rule of the day, keeping me at bay,
serving me lies on a silver tray that aid
in the way I concede defeat and repeat the conceit
until receipt of my soul is due and I don't
know what to do, I won't know who to screw
because the sides are ever-changing, the tides
are ever-ranging in sine waves of disbelief,
there's no relief in the house of the dead
but to lay down your head in surrender to the man,
the idea that you can is crushed in the night,
crushed in the light, rushed into fright
of that big white hand sitting still in the sand,
waiting to draw the line that's fine and all,
making you small, showing you how the tall stand
and survive, you're not really alive,
you're not really the person they say you are...
you're not really the person they say you are.

my brother, my friend

When all the world seems to cry
aloud, “Why try? Why not die?”
and your ears have burned
in all those psalms you’ve learned
about right and wrong, heaven and hell,
and there’s only one option that seems well,
remember, too, of what rings true
hundreds of miles away on the telephone to you:

Fuck, fuck, fuck! my friend,
this can’t be the way it ends.
I know it’s all fucked
but let’s look at the better side of our luck.
Let’s take a moment to look at history in retrospect
and recall the shit we’ve lived through that we didn’t expect.
Let’s open our eyes, lift our disguise
and live another day as though we knew no other way.

It’s crazy how things will work out
when you let yourself get about
and the chaotic working of the mind
will creep up from behind to remind
that there are bigger plans for you and I
and though it’s sad that the best we can do is try
there’s little for us to do
but get along and get on through.

I’ve been there before,
hung my black cross upon a darkened door,
woke as though in a dream
and realized that I wasn’t what I seem;
my life the clearest white fog
the emptiness heavy as logs
weighing down the happiness of my life
until I can figure a way to cut it from my veins with a knife.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. my friend,
this isn’t the way it should end.
I know all life seems fucked
but there’re other ways to try our luck.
Let’s take a moment to honor those we respect,
who’ll sit by our side while inside we inspect
the health of our souls and the weight of our lies,
reaching deep until it’s really time we died.



11 Sept 06