Tag: humor

Interface Mountain, A Modern Evolutionary Three Act Tale

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By J. T. Hilltop

ACT I
There was a really loud bang, sudden darkness, and a symphony of glass shattering into a million pieces followed by a wall of sound stereo system of twisting crunching metal in an uneven rhythm. “What t remember a thing. Yes, yes that’s it, yea, I was driving down the highway in a mad rush for work and then…..and then… and then what?” Everything is so damn foggy. No, not metaphorically foggy, actual dry ice on a stage foggy. “Wait! Where am I?” Am I in a fugue state filled with hazy wafting smoke. I don’t think so, I feel like an empty shell of a person, like everything passes through me but my memories are a plethora of echoes. Could this be death? No, but maybe I‘m just super stoned…It sure don’t smell like weed though, in fact it smells sort of clinical and pristine, maybe a hospital so probably not in my car stoned. So then where exactly am I? What’s with all the mist? Okay think…I was in my car on the way to work and what? “No! Oh shit now I remember, some asshole car came across the median straight towards me and into……. Oh fuck no, I was in an accident!” I am in a hospital. Yea, that’s it, I’m in a hospital and….. No wait, that can’t be right, the mist, no tubes or wires, no beeps, not in a bed, I’m…ah I’m in a… I’m sitting on a bench? No, not a bench. Wait! Am I fucking dead?” My flair for the dramatic apparently still alive I paused for effect…..That’s when shit began to settle into my head and shine a light on my situation. I am dead, I was killed in a car accident and now I’m in….. In where? The Twilight Zone? A morgue? Not Heaven! Purgatory then? Was I wrong about heaven and hell all this time? Maybe God’s punking me by placing me in the ‘Heaven Can Wait’ waiting room. Or sending me my own personal George Bailey AS2 guardian angel Clarence Oddbody to take me away and earn his wings. Hold on here, I’m an existentialist so if there is God he isn’t about to let me hang out on his turf, he’d probably send me to everlasting church or something just as tedious. So then just where the Hell am I, pardon the expression? As I was pondering my potential fate a loudspeaker broke the unearthly silence. “Hilltop, Justin Thyme? Is there a JT Hilltop here?”
Before I heard this announcement I was merely confused, attempting to piece together recent events. Some weird dream, maybe a coma dream or something but whatever it was I thought I was all alone. There are other people here waiting for what I supposed their own fates would be. I’m in some kind of group of the misplaced dead and I’m being paged. Now I’m like “Pew pew pew BAM.. Mindfuck!” Here I am trying to figure out what the hell is going on with my death when I get mind-fucked by a loudspeaker. Should I stand up or should I pretend I didn’t hear it? I was just about ready to find an exit when standing right in front of me was a young dude. “You’re JT, yes?” I gave this, this, umm, young entity the once over. A nerdy looking kid somewhere in his late twenties with thick rimmed glasses and a bargain store suit that was a bit to big for his small frail frame. He had thick short dark black hair with a pencil behind his ear but not a hint of a smile on his face. He didn’t even look my way as he was reading something on a clipboard waiting for confirmation from me. After a few seconds of silence he spoke again in a monotone voice, “Don’t make this difficult Mr. Hilltop, you’re already dead so you really have nowhere else to go. Nobody gets out so just come with me please.” He never even waited for acknowledgement just began walking away. I followed blindly as he led me down a hallway.
I was kinda hoping he was in search of his lost personality but sensed he was searching for my place whatever that may be. A place for me to exit. What a shit word to think of when your dead, exit! I decided I would try and engage this nerd so maybe he could help acclimate me as to just where I was or give me an indication of where we were heading, “So I died huh? Was it the accident? I bet it was the accident. So what, is this your full time job or are you just filling in? Is this even a job bringing the dead to their final destination?“ No response, “Come on man have some pity on a dead dude, help me out a little. Who exactly are you working for?” His pace quickened, “We all have our tasks here Mr. Hilltop. I work for no one and yet I work for everyone now just come along please, no time for idle chatter.” I processed his statement. No time? Maybe he has no time but if I’m dead then time is irrelevant, “I’ve nothing but time young dude, so help an old man out, what’s going on here? What are you like the Geek Death Squad?” The nerd shook his head as though I was exasperating to him, “Mr.Hilltop you died! Expired, kicked the bucket. You have ceased to exist. You were in a car accident and died because a drunk driver hit you head on. Looking over your file sir it seems about as an approprriate way to die as I’ve ever seen given your pension for the bottle. That or cirrhosis but either way how you died is insignificant. Your at the terminal right now, and please no lame jokes about the name terminal its been done a few million times over the years by people far more witty than you think you are. I’m a death agent assigned to take you to your Sherpa who will assist you in your transition. Now please keep quiet and continue to follow me we’re nearly there.” Transition? Great, more questions less answers. I peered at the doorways along the way and it appeared they had different religious symbols on them until we reached one door that had a big red X and the word Atheists on it.
Suddenly I was feeling like my head was spinning. Not really dizzy, but constantly spinning. Grumpy the young douche-nerd death agent opened a door speaking to someone on the other side, “I have a very uncooperative Mr. Justin Thyme Hilltop here sir. He never shuts up and he is now your problem, not mine.” The person on the other side of the door mumbled something incomprehensible and the young agent of death let out an exasperated sigh, “Well techniquely he doesn’t believe in any deity so he’s all yours Dee.” The door opened wide as the agent motioned to me to walk through. I walked inside. That is to say I walked through the door but actually found myself outside. It was about halfway up a huge beautiful mountain. Surrounded by gorgeous greenery of tree’s and shrubs, the sound of running water combined with an assortment of indefinable sounds made from various animals. I mumbled “paradise” as I noticed an old man with long white hair complete with matching silvery beard standing in front of me. “What the fuck are you like Kung Fu Gandalf or something man? Am I in Middle Earth?” The old man smiled warmly like…..well like Gandalf actually, “No Justin, I’m not Gandalf, I’m certainly no magician or wizard or even ninja and this is nothing like Middle Earth. You’re on Interface Mountain. I’m what you might call your Sherpa, my name is Dee Bays. Its my job to lead you back to the Mountain Mainframe after discovering your rightful place. Hopefully you can be re-appropriated correctly.” I chuckled, “You’re who then and this is what now? Sorry old dude but I didn’t get a word of what the hell you just said. All I wanna know is are you the one who can tell me what exactly is going on here?” The man had ancient looking eyes, much older than even he himself. It appeared as though they had viewed centuries of pain and sadness yet they had an incredibly calming effect. It was as though those warm narrow orbs were a separate entity that seemed to wrap me in a hug putting me at ease. Old dude placed his arm over my shoulders, “It’s okay Justin, or do you really prefer JT?” I smiled, “You can call me whatever you want but I prefer JT. How much longer do I have?” The old dude let a small laugh slip out, “Are you in a hurry JT? I can speed this up if you want?” I was pretty sure he was teasing me but just in case I answered with a hint of fear and desperation, “No,no,no, seriously, I’m in no hurry. Its just….Well my head is spinning and I’m confused.” Old dude began walking up a mountain path signaling for me to follow, “Your head is spinning because of the buffering JT, it’s a side effect of dying. It will go away once your operating system is re-booted.” More confusion, “My operating system? Re-boot? What the fuck?”

TBC

A Slice Of Life (from Zen And The Art f Culinary Maintenance)

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J.T. Hilltop
I was seriously depressed, spent 33 days as an unwilling guest at a South Carolina correction facility on my way to Arizona, and I never made it any further west then freaking Georgia. I played around in Atlanta, Columbia, and Myrtle Beach, and finally realized it was time to get back home to Long Island where I could at least waste my life away with some friends.

After two wasted years and a week of senseless sporadic hitchhiking in the south I finally made it back home to Centerlawn. It had only been two years yet as I quickly learned it’s a strange new world around here. Nearly everyone I hung out with has either gotten married, moved, or joined the “Establishment” and are doing their nine to fives. As for me I‘m officially unemployed and living at home with my Dad of all people. My next tattoo way just as well be a large “L” on my forehead so everyone can see what a loser I’ve become. What a cruel world. I had to do something, I was relented to the ultimate embarrassment of getting cash from my old man for doing menial tasks around the house, which had been seriously neglected as of late. A twenty three year old earning a teenage allowance. I needed to move out on my own again really bad but jobs were scarce, and I have zero money let alone security and rent for a month. Then my old friend Universe created its mysterious cosmic connection and the answer appeared in front of me. My cosmic companion placed fates ironic ad in the classified section of the local paper, “Looking for line cook for six day week. Room and board included. Inquire at Glen City Country Club.” “Fore!”

Thank you destiny! It opened up a whole new world to me. Long Island has tons of country clubs and most of them offer room and board as part of a compensation package. I could bounce from club to club until I get back up on my feet. Hey its not like Maggs Garden Apartment but it’s a room with a bed. I went to GCCC the very next day in my best clothes wearing my best attitude and charm. I got the job on the spot thanks to all my previous restaurant experience. Zen and the Art Of Culinary maintenance is back in the house.

The country club circuit is different from restaurants. For one thing it means split shifts. The members get breakfast and lunch Tuesday through Sunday, and dinner Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday which meant a break from 3-6 on those days. Mondays the kitchen was closed so we all had a day off. The hours were very mixed up but the work was steady and the pay was decent. A great staff, quality food, lots of waitresses, and we all got along and had fun. The room and board left a bit to be desired, the staff referred to it as “The Monkey House.” A small room with a cheap bed and dresser with showers down the end of the hall but what the Hell man, it was still better than having to see Dads face everyday.

Alas, I’ve learned that anytime anything good happens to me something has to come along and fuck it up. After losing at love three times in a row I opted to not get caught up in any serious relationship but that didn’t mean I would stop flirting. As I have also learned I have a pension for flirting with disaster, this time disaster being the General Managers daughter. Eight years younger than me but she was just too hot to let pass without making a pass. I put my flirtatious charm into overdrive and soon their was a very thick air of sexually charged tension. As the Rabbi said before the Bris, “It won’t be long now”

I was employed at Glen City Country Club for just under a year when the ill advised flirting with the bosses daughter teamed up with that old practical joker JT‘s fate and raised the level from disaster to catastrophic cacophony. An accident that would send me to the hospital would set off the next series of unfortunate events in my life.

The members of the clubs get a lot of perks and have a lot of all day golfing tournaments. On most big outings we had to set up two refreshment stations serving soda, beer, water, a hamburger grill and cold sandwiches. We loaded up a golf cart with folded tables, food and drink, and ice buckets to keep stuff cold. The tournament was over and one of the other cooks, Jose, was driving the cart we had just loaded with all the tables and leftovers from the refreshment stand at the 9th hole. He was driving the loaded cart along an elevated tee, a two foot incline, when he noticed something fell out of the cart and jumped out to get it. The cart kept moving towards the edge of the incline so I reached my foot over to hit the brake. Unfortunately the gas pedal bore a striking resemblance to the brake pedal so instead of coming to a stop the cart, full loaded with me in the passenger seat picked up speed. Or it’s quite possibly the beer I snuck or the two Valiums I washed down with the beer an hour ago, but either way I put the pedal to the medal and the golf Cart took off. Literally. Not enough speed to break any golf cart speed records but enough to send the cart full speed ahead to the edge of the elevated women’s tee into a triple one and a half twist gainer with a perfect swan dive straight into the ground. … I remember seeing a bunch of things rolling around with me but don’t remember any pain. In fact I was shocked when I saw the amount of blood coming from my arm.

Jose freaked of course and in his broken English I believe he said “Jesus and crackers JT, you losing focking blood”. Indeed I was, I grabbed one of the table cloths and wrapped my arm as Jose took off towards the main house screaming “help, help, help” That’s when I passed out. I awoke in and ambulance but I was seriously disoriented. The medic told me to relax and I told him I was in considerable pain.Next thing I knew a familiar feeling of warmth spread across my body. My old friend morphine was entering my bloodstream for a reunion. I closed my eyes, smiled, asked the medic to throw away the pill box in my pocket and drifted off into a different state.

I woke up about one or two days later, my arm was tied up top a pole with this huge sock that would be too big for Shaquile O’Neil, and sitting across from me smiling was the managers daughter. I knew instinctively that nothing good could come from this, so naturally, I asked her out which was extremely awkward considering when I got out of bed I realized the tied on hospital robe I was wearing exposed my big white hairy ass….. Was tha a good thing? Or a bad thing? Time and fate would tell….
TBC

 

I

Culinary Nirvana Takes Center Stage

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(From Zen And The Art Of Culinary Maintenance by J. T. Hilltop)

Working in a restaurant at age 14 was more than just a J.O.B., it was a spiritual transcendence. It was being part of something that lifted an entire staff of “Restaurant People” to a higher plane. At that impressionable age I was fortunate enough to find myself in the employ of Cavalieri’s restaurant in the socially envious position of pot washer. Four nights after school, and Saturday nights, I was the head pot washer. But, being the envy of my high school buddies was short lived when I discovered that the “head pot washer” had nothing to do with pot and even worse, I wasn’t really in charge of anything other than some sudsy water that involved way more than merely washing pots. I was also permitted, implored even, to use my hands to scrape and clean the organic food remnants and other indefinable residues left on the plates by our satisfied customers. So it was that this head pot washer was cleaning everything that anyone found so objectionable it was left on the used plates in the restaurant. Poised at the suds busting helm I decided that I was going to be the best Goddam pot washer they ever had.
On one particular night an epiphany of sorts smacked me in the head so I felt compelled to let everyone in the kitchen know my lofty intentions of becoming a black belt in the art of pot and pan scrubbery. When I told the chef, the sensei, the absolute ruler of the kitchen of my plan I was certain he would beam with pride. I really looked up to the chef even though he was so old. Man that dude must have been in his 50’s. I believe he always worked hard and the years had been kind to him, although not without consequence. Deep furrows stretched into spaghetti lines across his face, and he always seemed to be deep in thought even when he was drinking. I noticed he was quite fit for an old dude, and he was deceptively strong. Crazy coot could throw 50 pound bags of potatoes halfway across the kitchen with ease. Sometimes directly at me! He always wore a dirty and tattered black bandana which concealed the badly receding headline and his eyebrows sported the thickest hair he had. Like angry caterpillars on steroids those eerie brows housed some very dark and serious eyes. Eyes that narrowed instantly at the first sign of anger. Like holy shit man it wasn’t only the eyes but that bulging vein that stood out and threatened me personally. Eyebrows that said grab a scour pad you insignificant piece of shit the are dirty pots to be assimilated. Every second I prayed it wasn’t the angry face that was building up inside his maniacal mind but the funny one. Not siree it was not the anger I was about to get a full emasculating dose of. He looked me directly in the eyes and with his most compassionate paternal demeanor his eyebrows alloed his eyes to tear up as he laughed uncontrollably. A laugh that came all the way from the balls of his feet. In between his deafening guffaws the chef attempted to tell his sous chef Andre what my intentions were, and that was met with a roar of laughter that could cause a soufflé to fall to it‘s knees. Regardless of their snickering daggers of contemptuous chuckling I maintained a stiff upper lip, and decided I would take charge of my own soapy destiny.
The fuck with them! As empowering as it may seem it wasn’t the joy of busting suds for a living that kept me coming back. It wasn’t the dream of one day being admired, no revered as the Chef Ultimate, the absolute ruler of the kitchen. It wasn’t that soul warming food, it wasn’t even the lure of the attractive and flirtatious waitresses that continually tempted my teenage libido with a false sense of possibilities beyond imagination. No, there was something else about this experience that taunted my inner Cheshire cat. They paid me money so I could but weed.
So despite all the bad karma that seeped out of the sink drain I thought nothing could possibly drag me away from the restaurant industry. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll be the Chef, and become a raving lunatic who screams at anyone dumb enough to stay within ear range of my booming voice. An insane Guru who proudly sports a tall white hat accentuated by a bulging forehead vein that popped out with ease whenever challenged. A slightly touched man who is permitted by law to carve carcasses with an array of razor sharp knives of all sizes. I can’t help thinking how proud that would make Mom and Dad. Oh the hell with the Stock Exchange Mom, I wanna make Chicken veloute and dine of foie gras. Trade in the stock market returns for recipes. I want to carry big ass knives around. My gastronomic voyage would be completed once I became the all powerful illustrious Chef
Anyway that was the dream. Truth be told the restaurant industry simply jumped up at me and shouted “This is it” Este Este Este!!. This is what you ask? It was the people, the “restaurant people”, an almost cosmic group of mix matched misfits. I was spellbound by this diverse group of dedicated individuals who work together in a form of impromptu performance art centering around biodegradable remnants of the tastiest and most orgasmic morsels of nutrition I had ever indulged in. Each person plays an integral role in this drama. Like an experienced stage hand I set up the props over and over so the chef could turn organic ingredients into edible works of art, perfectly arranged on the plate I had cleaned. Our lead waitress, Laura would put six of these recently cleaned, now presently food adorned plates on a large oval tray, also cleaned by yours truly, and with swanlike grace effortlessly carry it off to be placed in front of some more than likely alcohol saturated patrons. The patrons would then eat the wonderful dish of blissful organic delight, inadvertently leaving something on the plate that would eventually become my responsibility. The waitress would entertain them with a variety of skits, ranging from cute and flirtatious to downright suggestive. The performance continues. Meanwhile, backstage the chef, Jimmy ( his given name was too hard to pronounce) is performing voice exercises and using my deer in headlight eyes as his focal point. Rapidly building to an everlasting crescendo I listen intently to the chefs advice, disregarding the part where he assures me I should either procreate with myself or leave this God forsaken establishment. Or die. Sufficiently emasculated, red-faced, and disenchanted, I returned to my potsink in a highly evolved state. Taking a “the show must go on” attitude, I needed to ready myself for the onslaught of table remnants that our patrons found objectionable. In walked the lovely leading lady, flashing me that piercing knee buckling waitress smile, and began emulating the chefs thunderous performance. Thankfully, it was not directed at me, but rather on the only person here that was truly as lowly as I am, Rod the busboy. Now I got an opportunity to view my peer’s reaction to a brutal lexiconic workover, so I might hone my anti-beration skills for the next portioning of verbal abuse. It would not take long, and I unfortunately had little time to study my new mentor, so I was left to my improvisational skills. The burning narrowed eyes of my dream vision, the waitress, met mine and for just a few seconds held me in a frozen state. While flashing her signature seductive smile, Laura’s eyes softened, and in that songbird like voice, she asked, “JT, will you set up my next tray?” With a wink, she was gone, the busboy was fighting back tears, the chef was deciding my fate, and I of course, was oblivious to anything that didn’t involve setting up Laura’s tray like it had never been set before. As the chef pondered the proper selection of various swear words and insults in his bi-lingual assault ability to more effectively crush my spirit, I arranged Laura’s tray smiling silently. The chef began to explain to me who I was working for, but fortunately for me his lung busting performance was interrupted by the appearance of anther equally as enigmatic presence. The next character to enter, stage left, was a tall, tuxedoed, and very suave Frenchman bearing the title of restaurant manager. Didier. Didier’s job, as I understood it, was to make the entire cast so miserable we would reach deep down to our inner selves and come up with the performance of a lifetime. I wanted to reach deep down and pull out a Smith and Wesson but then again, I was young and impressionable back then, and of course a pacifist commie bastard, so I did indeed find myself motivated by the threat of that French penguin. Not to mention another opportunity to allow Laura to know that I may be way young, but I am also an awesome dude willing to please. Didier began to roar at all of us, and yet then again, to no-one in particular. It was delivered in a language foreign to me that sounded oddly complementary. Rod the busboy assured me that those seemingly sweet words that came thundering out towards the entire cast were in fact foul vulgar French slang that could make the onions break down and cry. As Didier loudly and cantankerously explained to us how important it was that we comprehend the significance of his tirade most of us merely trembled. Even Jimmy looked worried when Didier was in the kitchen. Oddly the only one that was not intimidated was Laura, my fantasy vivacious waitress, who seemed to render our fearful leader speechless using only her eyes. Or was it her gorgeous thighs? No matter like the Wicked Witch of the West Didier disappeared in a puff of smoke. Or maybe Jimmy was burning something, I really don’t remember. But he was gone, Laura’s tray was set to absolute perfection, Rod the busboy had regained his composure, and Jimmy was ready with the next round of tantalizing treats arranged in artwork on my clean plates. All had performed admirably in Act I, but Act II is yet to come. Rush hour, when the dining rooms reaches maximum capacity, the pressure elevates, tempers hone their skills, and back in the kitchen the shit really hit’s the exhaust fans..
TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Training My Puppy To Be Existential

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This is Bailey, a puppy we adopted just before Christmas, thus naming him George Bailey. He dropped the George because he felt it too cumbersome for such a cute little canine. He was a rescue but truth be told we rescued each other. Two Dark souls who feel like the Universe is against them. The main difference is while Bailey has the youthful energy and exuberance of a child, I have reached a point where energy has been replaced by wisdom. A clever way to describe finally getting it after you’re too old to use it. Either way, it has become my responsibility to raise my puppy as an existentially evolved wolf.

 

So I have been tasked with teaching this cute little Labee (a term coined by some hipster Millennial with a ManBun describing a mix between a Labrador Retriever and a Beagle) to become an enlightened and existential canine. TBT, he already has a good grasp on some basic existential concepts, such as the importance of the self. He clearly accepts the fact that his self is the center of his universe. Unfortunately he also has a firm grasp on possessions with his sharp teeth and strong jaw. This habit is far more about anarchy than existentialism, but still the insignificance of ownership of material objects is an important facet of understanding existentialism. Like most canines politics are important to the pack mentality. Come to think about it, he views me not as his owner, but more like his Socialist Government who distributes food drink and shelter in return for a modicum of loyalty.

 

Spending most of his time with his Hippie counter-culture grandpa, a few unusual dog training methods were bound to be instituted. I had to train him to be a canine and also to survive in a humans world. First things being first I had to teach him some basic dog rules. The first rule of the dog world is all about common canine decency. Rule One I had to teach him was never ever, no matter how much undigested food there is in another dogs stool, you don’t eat other dogs shit! His nose sniffs the ground near an opposing canines unpicked up fecal matter like it’s a huge line of cocaine with a bonus at the end. Most trainers offered advice like say “leave it” or “stay away” while tugging gently on his leash. But again, being a Hippie grandpa I choose to use my own commands. I yell “Bong Water” and pull him away. Why? Because if you have ever woken up after an evening of massive bong hits in a mental haze of fog with the driest cotton mouth you’ve ever experienced and accidentally drank the liquid contents in your bong you will understand how ridiculously disgusting “Bong Water” tastes. For me it was one of the most objectionable tastes ever so to say it as my dog is about to partake of something gross it just seemed fitting.

 

Thing is dogs don’t understand our language, just the words we use. If you constantly say stand when you really want them to sit they won’t stare at you and correct your grammar, they will follow the command according to the words used to train and reinforce the desired result. A sharp loud “Dude” tells Bailey to pay attention to me. The softer “Here Little Dude” lets him know I’m pulling a Milk Bone from my pocket. It’s hard breaking through because Bailey is going through a self awareness crisis, I throw a ball and the Labrador in him chases it while the Beagle in him refuses to give it back. It creates a game of distrust and keep away that perplexes us both. Anyway, time to get back to my Existentialism Canine Training.

 

It was very difficult to get Bailey to understand the concept of all dogs don’t go to heaven because existentially heaven doesn’t exist for any of us. All the dogs in the neighborhood are counting on this concept but the truth is it’s just a rumor started by a Pitt Bull from down the block. This has made my existential training from the canine philosophical point of view somewhat difficult. To explain his separation from his earthly existence is quite a challenge. His sense of reason seems non existent. I can’t figure out why he does some of the crazy things he does. For instance, he will chew twigs and eat dirt but then stare at me for giving him what he considers to be shit dogfood. And the shit is like mostly chicken, because the first time I bought him food with too much grain in it the young store cashier looked at me like I was a piece of gluten. If eyes could spoil a dinner, I’d have been a meal in the garbage.

So I continue to hope, launching into philosophical dissertations as we walk I express my thoughts about God, existence, and living in a Kafkaesque world. I’m guessing it will take a lot of profound monologues to break down the thousands of years of evolution both our species have experienced aside from having gone through much of it together in a symbiotic relationship. So for now I suppose I’ll just have to be satisfied with repeating quotes from Sartre and Camus, while expressing my deep love of Hermann Hesse works and my affinity for Kierkegaard while we go out on our adventures in the suburban jungle. At least he gives me the courtesy of pretending he gets me…. Live and Love in Peace

 

 

WONDERLAND

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wonderland

 

Sometimes its about nothing more than having some fun.. “A little nonsense now and then, cherished by the wisest men”* (and women)

After a few puffs of herbal hilarity
I had momentary lapse of clarity
Followed a mousey mole
Down a white rabbit hole
Not a worry about mistaking the severity
I was……

Grinning and spinning through the vortex from the beginning
I was Frolicking and following without ever acknowledging
There a was a mushroom and a caterpillar smoking a painkiller
A laughing Phyllis Diller the strange theater was a chiller
Goddam it was like re-watching The Thriller in Manila
With Michael as Pop king and Ali as Godzilla
In short it was Killah I was as high as a Magilla Gorlilla
But…..

Time came for me to move my trippy high ass
But I was pushed or I fell through the looking glass
Filling my head with wonder
What a weird spell I was under
I truly hoped that this groovy high would last and last
Seems kinda crass but that’s all in the past
Because I was……
Floating and laughing down a rainbow river
My liver all a-quiver from a psoriasis giver
If my organs knew how screwed the booze made them shiver
Both my kidney and liver woulda quit liquor much quicker
Still I was just waiting, hallucinating and debating
If my imaginating was the real deal or if I was faking
It was deflatin’……
But whatever I drank made me pulse like a pheromone
Then made me shrink so I’d fit in this dome of a rabbit home
One sign said treat me
The other said eat me
I took them both and the shit really began to heat me
Opps now a retraction the opposite reaction
To my dissatisfaction the drugs caused a contraction
Lights flashing and laughing, splashing and thrashing
Sent my cold soul North of the pole
The icy Arctic circle had me feeling infertile
Time for some soup so I ordered Mock Turtle
Or was that still the herbal?….

Did a shot of Bacardi at one crazy tea party
The majority of the inferiority made a super majority
A march hare in a hat a rodent sleeping on a mat
A jabberwocky and a Tabby doing this and then that
A Cheshire smiling and inspiring that feline was beguiling
Disappearing and fearing until once again reconciling
I nearly shat when I saw only the teeth of that darn cat
He spat like a gnat so I prayed he was spayed
Didn’t know what else to say
So I found my way to a game of croquet….
With flamingo in hand I joined in the Queensland
And a hedgehog I slammed the deck of cards be damned
The spiky round critter not being a quitter
Fluttered and flittered biting the foot of his hitter
I screamed out in pain but all was in vain
The roses once white where painted red once again
I’m not sure what she said but the Heart card in red
Wanted someone dead so said off with his head
I laughed till I peed then fell to my knee
When SMACK……..reality
I simply didn’t see she was talking about me
Time to hightail and flee…….
I know I shouldn’t make this a habit
But once again I followed the white rabbit
My psychotic behavior
Is something to savor
So I just swallowed one more tablet
Cause I like the flavor
Props To Lewis Carroll, this was my absolute fave story as a kid and as a kid/adult. Some people tell me I should grow up but I tried that once and it was the worst ten minutes of my life…. Live and Love in Peace

*Willy Wonka……Special props to Gene Wilder, not even in my rather fertile imagination will there ever be a better Willy Woksa….Good Day Sir!!

 

MAKE THEM LAUGH

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laugh

 
When you’re laughing its hard to be sad

So issue some humor and life’s not so bad

Whether it a gaffe or a joke off the graph

A quick one liner or a whole paragraph

It you want to be happy, then make them laugh

MAKE THEM LAUGH

Laughing is like knocking boots
‘Cept you don’t  get naked
Make Them Laugh
Even if they fake it

Tell a silly joke a playful pun
Or some well placed sarcasm
Cuz when you make someone laugh
You give their brain an orgasm

So make them chuckle
Make them moan and groan
Give them a mental climax
Or they’ll be holding their own

They may grab their sides
With tearful elation
Sometimes the best you can give
Is some humor gratification
Just make them laugh
It’s free

COSMO AND THE GARDEN EARTH (excerpt from Act III)

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act

 

Jesus Christ Superstar Do You Think You’re What They Say You Are?
JT Hilltop

News. North East West South. Good news, bad news, happy news, sad news. All types and in all types of type. There’s tragic news, welcome news, unwelcome news, news, news, news, all kinds of news. Some news has little or no consequence on your life and some comes hurling at you like a shit ton of bricks. So much news it‘s not fit to print. News can make you laugh or cry, chuckle or sigh, scream and die, or wish you could fucking fly. News is unstoppable, it can have no effect on your life or it can cause a drama laden pile of shit upheaval that it will change you forever. But one thing is certain about news and that is its gonna come. News is coming toward you and there ain’t a Goddam thing you can do to stop it. Mary Anne had just this sort of news for the God Cosmo and her news was one of those shit-tons that came on a speeding train out of control heading straight down the track with no one at the wheel. Not even Casey fucking Jones could’ve stopped this bitch train of news and like it or not the news was coming and Cosmo had better be ready. And once this news hits Cosmo’s fan there will shit flying across all the galaxies. The key difference between good or bad news is all in your perspective. “Cosmo my favorite god, the only God I have ever truly loved, I have some good news and some bad news for you and its basically the same. Remember that time we had our romp in the clouds in The District? You filled me up with joy, pleasure, intense feeling and….and a shitload of highly active God-sperm. There is no easy way to say this. You have a baby boy and his names Jesus.” A baby? That’s not your average local planet news, that’s God and Goddess dam intergalactic news! It’s the kind of life altering news that for some is incredible and joyous and to many others it’s indifferent. But for the vast number who get this news for the first time its frightening. It’s the kind of news that will have you running down the street screaming halleluiah I’m gonna be a parent or slam you headfirst into unprepared parenthood. “You have a son” is the very definition of life altering news. “You have a son, his name is Jesus” is beyond life altering, its planet altering, nay universe shaking! Cosmo repeated the name Jesus of Cosmo over to himself more than a dozen times until it finally sunk in that he had a son who is half God, half Non-God.
Now lets put some perspective on this news. Not your ordinary couple and seldom in any of the universes has this type of mixed marriage worked. Mary Anne is a Non-God from a planet in the Babaloo Galaxy who was at one time a God-Toy, or to put it in mortal terms, an erotic escort. Cosmo had paid special attention to Mary Anne and after their weekend fling thought he felt someone else in the room. Little did he know it was just his seedling. Cosmo is the God of The Milky Way Galaxy and was normally very careful on his sexcapades but it only takes one little slip and……well you get the rest. However we must keep in mind that Cosmo has always been a stand up god willing to do the right thing (for a God anyway) as well as quite resourceful. If anyone can put a positive gravitational spin on this news Cosmo could. So this news of baby Jesus would not be taken lightly. First things first let it be known that the moment it sunk in that mary Anne had conceived his only begotten son Cosmo understood his responsibility to both Mary Anne and baby Jesus. As much as he loved his bachelorhood the thought of a solid lifestyle held a degree of appeal to Cosmo. On the other hand Cosmo was quite the lover and never had a problem finding a partner. Yet many a night was spent lonely watching his garden of you mans and Mary Anne would certainly be of interesting company. A God has no qualms about past practices of their mates and frankly he appreciated what she did. Not to mention she is quite skilled at put a huge smile on the virile gods face that weekend. Come to think of it was as if she had surgically implanted that smile for over a week afterwards. Either way the bottom line is he had a baby and a responsibility to both the baby and the non god he had fallen in love with. Wait! What? Fallen in love? Certainly not fallen, perhaps he had stumbled in a profound like with her but love? Come to think of it he did create the fertile crescent while thinking of her beautiful hair (If indeed it was as he claims her head which was the body part he was thinking about). Maybe this news can be used for a positive effect on the three of them and for garden Earth as well. A plan was inseminated and the egg was ready to be hatched. Cosmo knew exactly what to do with the news.
Of course the news is also going to be heard at a Board Co-Operative Gods and Goddesses meeting in District 7. The board is like the gravitational black hole of universal gossip. Nothing escapes it. Whether it’s entertainment, breaking news or even just hearsay, all news that’s fit to print or printed to fit will find its way to District 7 in a radio-active flash. The best thing for Cosmo to do is to have his plan of action fully worked out before they summon him. Some mixed marriages have worked, a god and a non god can live a happy life but many a failure has been scandalized across the universes. With this plan however Cosmo was taking fatherhood to an unprecedented level . He had already sold it on his non god lover who had found herself in a awkward position of being the mother of a gods child. Ironically it was the twisting herself into an awkward position one pleasure soaked night that lead to her situation in the first place. For her part it was difficult to argue with a God to begin with but Mary Anne trusted Cosmo implicitly and his plan seemed to make sense. Truth be told she did have some reservations at first but after thinking the story through a few times it began to grow on her. (The plan….Not the God manhood) Her son would be a savior, a Christ. Her son would be the messiah of Garden Earth. She repeated it to herself, “My son, Jesus Christ, Superstar.”
It was much easier to get the Boards okay than Cosmo had anticipated. Who knows maybe it was his unending charm, maybe they dug the plan, maybe they were just tired of seeing him, or maybe they just wanted the messy scandal over and done post haste. Cosmo laid out in detail how he was going to offer his son as a virginal birth to be the son of Cosmo and help get the you mans to understand that they have strayed from the law of life, and had become a threat to the cycle. He would have a big hullabaloo when the child was born, have him disappear mysteriously while he learns how to teach the word of Cosmo. He will then spread the word of Cosmo and teach all the you mans about the necessity of his cycle of life. Cosmo schemed to find the right woman to impregnate and fake it as a virginal birth. It would go down in you mans history as an immaculate conception and the child would be the son of Cosmo and spread the word. Mary Anne would raise their son Jesus and train him for his mission at the same time. They would stay at an undisclosed location in District 7 where Cosmo could visit on weekends. When Jesus was ready and the time was right he would switch out the child on earth with Jesus and he could bring the you mans back to the path of righteousness. Then he could switch the body double back and everything would be right once again. A pretty brilliant plan if everything goes as it should. If!
The very first problem arose rather early into the plan. Cosmo chose a nice Jewish couple from Nazareth in the city of Galilee. Joseph and Mary. He visited Mary while Joseph was away and worked his sexual magic on her for hours filling her with gallons of egg hungry swimming godsperms. He had Mary believe it was a dream, a very sweet dream, and she would be none the wiser. Of course she became pregnant right away but the snag was in the child she bore. It was a female and Mary named her Rosemary. So he had to make a second attempt after allowing Rosemary to get a few earth years in age. The second attempt was successful after eliminating the x chromosomes from his body fluid. During the night in that session he told Mary he was an angel from the god Cosmo and that she would be giving birth to the son of a god and he would be the savior of the world. But in her dream she heard it as the son God, not the son of A god. When she woke she was even more confused (and satisfied) than the first dream. When she conveyed the story to Joseph he was very suspicious at first. “Wait, you’re telling me Mary that God had sex with you and you are carrying his baby? An angel told you to name him Jesus? And this happened while I was out of town?” Mary was struggling with it as well because the dream seemed so real, but eventually she was able to convince Joseph as well as herself. She told everyone that God has told her to have this immaculately conceived baby and that he was going to save the world. It was met with a cloud of doubt and cynicism, and rumblings of gossipy sordid affairs abounded. But it was as she would find out, not only her cross to bear.
They were advised by some wise men, three of them actually, that it would be best for everyone if the birth not take place in town. Considering it good advice they opted to go to a friends farmhouse in Bethlehem. They had the plan all set and knew God would be lighting the way with a bright star which as it turns out was really a comet by the name Halley. They found a little manger outside the friends farmhouse and decided that it would be perfect. The baby was born, Mary named him Jesus as she had been instructed, and things were going along as planned for a change. The three wise dudes had a baby shower and brought some cool presents and announced to the world that a baby had been born, and that he was the son of God, and he would be baptized by John, a famous revivalist that held people under water until they agreed to repent. He would then be hidden as he learned the word of God in the wilderness with nothing but his rod and a small staff.
To Be Continued……

Went To A Garden Party (An Existentialists Satirical Bible Interpretation)

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garden

 

 

Garden Party, part II

Previously on Garden Party:
However, in an area we now call the Middle East, the so-called fertile crescent (fertile the definitive word), two tribes stood out amongst all others. The Aggies and The Shepherds.

Adam came across a small waterhole in which a young lady was bathing in the nude. Not recognizing her from his tribe he assumed she must belong to the Shepherds
Part Two…..Everybody out of the gene pool!

The first night after seeing this naked Shepherd woman Adam woke up all wet after a salacious dream of fantasy. S&M and fetishes (aside from the occasional animal fetish) hadn’t been invented yet so Adams fantasy was of pure and lurid sex with this fair shepherds daughter. He now had an obsession to sneak off to the forbidden zone in search of the erogenous zone. After quickly finishing his chores he would sneak down to the waterhole every day hoping for a copious viewing. He watched from the trees as she bathed herself getting more horny each day. He stared in awe until he got up enough nerve to confront her. “Young maiden of the Shepherds, why do you come to the forbidden place each day by yourself?” The young maiden pretended to be alarmed even though she had been aware of his hiding and staring since his first visit. Frankly, she was just as curious and horny as he was, also experiencing tingles and fantasizing about inter-tribal sex. “I come here to bath myself, not to be stared at by an Aggie. Why do you come here every day to stare at me?” The young Aggie gave this some thought, because quite frankly he wasn’t sure himself why he was here. “ I come not to stare at you but to explore the area and determine if the land is fit for growing” he lied. The young maiden blushed slightly when she saw the lust in his dark brown eyes. “Are you sure it is the land you wish to explore? It seems to me you are looking at my body and I believe that is not vegetation I see growing under your loincloth” The audacious young maiden gave him a look that offered more a challenge than a venting of distain. She blinked her eyes at him and something strange happened. He felt a Funny feeling in his stomach as though the seeds he used to grow things themselves were festering from within. He boldly chose to accept the challenge. “It is true that have gazed upon you and appreciate the…..unusual beauty you possess. Indeed I was hoping perhaps you were an Aggie and would be my maiden.” The Aggie could feel his entire body shaking and the young Shepherd maiden did not back away. She moved closer to the Aggie. “I am a Shepherd woman, not a dirt laden Aggie maiden. And you young Aggie, you are filled with dirt from your farming. If I were to ever consider being a maiden to the like of you I would expect you to be clean. Why don’t you come in here and allow me to bathe you?” It was more of an order than an invitation but that was of no consequence because he had already made his mind up as to where he was headed and his manhood was pointing the way. To honor this beuty of an animal penner Adam showed her a huge bud of something he had cultivated on his own. He broke off a piece, rolled it in some paper and struck a fire stick. He approached the watering hole with a mere modicum of trepidation and a huge blunt. Well two large blunts in the metaphoric sense. She held out her hand and he accepted the smoking blunt and puffed heartily. “What do you call this farm boy?” to which he answered with a dopey smile, “Green Acres.”
They puffed this happy herb and lo and behold it lowered their inhibitions to zero. Adam dropped his loincloth and revealed that the growth underneath it was indeed ripe for the picking. He stepped naked into the waterhole beside her. For two minutes they cleansed each other, eyes sparkling with curious wonder. The Aggie closed his eyes and allowed this maiden, this Shepherd woman to touch him all over. When she got down to washing below his waist he was surprised to discover how eagerly his body was responding without his consent. The maiden held his solid manpole in her hand. “Methinks my Aggie that you have something other than bathing on your mind.” Unable to form an actual word, the Aggie grabbed the maiden in his arms and laid a big fat spit swapping kiss on her using his tongue muscle very skillfully. This was something new to the maiden, and at first she wanted to pull back. However, once she realized how good the tongue tango felt, she greedily sucked his tongue into her mouth and allowed the saliva filled dance to continue. Well I don’t have to tell you what happened next. Sparks flew and fluids oozed, and soft moaning was the only form of communication. Of course the two lovers understood they would be scorned by their fellow tribe members for allowing their naked bodies to exchange these biological fluids, but frankly Scarlet they didn’t give a damn. They continued to explore each other and exchange passion and bodily fluids in so many positions it laid the groundwork for the upcoming Kama Sutra. They made passionate love four times and some not so passionate love twice more. It wasn’t until after the sixth round of carnal explorations led to exhaustion that they even introduced themselves to each other. “I am called Adam, which means man.” To which the maiden replied, “Indeed Adam, you are quite the man. More so than any Shepherd I have ever known. My name is Eve, which means life.” With a big fat satisfied grin Adam replied, “Indeed Eve, you have breathed life into me unequaled by any other Aggie I have ever known.” The only sound was the b=chirping birds, the cricking crickets, and the two stomachs growling from an unusual hunger pang. They found a fabulous apple tree and satisfied the very first cases of herbal munchies.
So Adam and Eve began to meet each other every day smoking Eden weed and making love like a couple of school kids. But all was not so good back at the tribes. The other Aggies were beginning to get suspicious because Adam never ever seemed to be dirty anymore. How could anyone work the soil all day yet remain free of dirt. And back at the Shepherds they began to get suspicious because Eve was always singing and whistling showing no interest in even the most handsome of Shepherds. Now it just so happened that the leader of each tribe sent a spy out to follow their respective suspected tribe violators on the very same day. Once at the watering hole, the Aggie spy hid in the north woods while the Shepherd spy hid in the south woods. At first the spies were appalled and shocked. But Adam and Eve were both so very sexually talented, and each brought new tricks specific to their tribes that it became more of a show. Sex theater at it’s finest. I believe at least one, perhaps even both had become so excited while watching that they pleasured themselves before returning to the tribe leaders to give the reports.
The tribe leaders were livid. Furious! How could this possibly happen? It was the most outrageous act that had ever occurred. They both paced, in different colonies yet somehow in unison, until the sinners returned to their folds. The minute Adam returned to the farming village he was grabbed by the biggest and strongest Aggies and brought before the leader. “Adam, I am quite disappointed”, he said, “You have disrespected every member of our tribe by engaging in this disgusting act with a Shepherd woman.” Adam didn’t answer, he just stood there looking sheepish, which for an Aggie was another no no. “You’re despicable act has left me with no other choice. You shall be banned forever from the garden of Eden. Go now, get out and never return. Take your Shepherd slut with you!” Adam sadly walked to his hut to gather his belongings. Inside he saw his best and now only friend. “How did he find out” he asked of this friend. “Well Adam, you were spied on by Cain. He followed you and reported back to the leader.” Adam shook his head and mumbled, “Cain, of course. I should have guessed. That shit spreading farmer is gonna pay for this someday.” And with that, Adam left towards the waterhole hoping to see Eve there one last time.
Eve of course had a similar experience, and she too was permanently banned from the Garden of Eden. Eve was certain it was Abel that had spied on her as Abel had always tried putting the moves on her but she forever denied his advances. Reluctantly she too had to leave, and also chose to have one last look around the sexually charged waterhole in hopes that somehow Adam might be there. As luck would have it, which luck often does in fairy tales, they met at the very same moment and exchanged stories of banishment’s.
So hand in hand Adam and Eve left the Garden of Eden forever, Eve holding in one hand one of the apples and a huge green bud Adam had grown for her, and in her other hand she held tight Adams snake, which Eve had so totally and completely tamed. It was the summer of discontent, and the fall of man.

 

Went To A Garden Party (An Existentialists Satirical Bible Interpretation)

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garden

 

 
Part I
By JT Hilltop

Preface

We can’t wait until our babies can talk until they can. And damn can they talk.. Once they learn the fine art of communicating we bang our heads for not being careful what we wished for. They have an inate sense of how to easily push opur buttons with one simple word. Why! It’s an exercise in redundancy in which every answer we give evokes another why. Then they start to really ask questions. Not a question here and there but a barrage of never ending questions that like that once cute game of peek a boo has no definitive ending. “What’s oral sex Mom, why did you call that driver an ’A-hole’?”. What’s it mean when some one sticks up their middle finger Dad, is that bad? Is the ‘F‘ word bad?” And that’s just kindergarten. They wanna know everything about everything and the questions don’t stop, “Mommy, where do babies come from? Daddy, why were you moving furniture around last night?” Its just in the very fabric of our being to be inquisitive because even those unwilling to speak are curious. Inquiring mimes want to know.
Back when I was just a mere tadpole swimming around the shore burning questions festered in my head as well. I must have driven my Mom and Dad crazy with my overwhelming curiosity. “Why do I have to eat spinach? Is broccoli little tree’s? Why do I have to put the seat up after I pee?” Do spiders sleep at night?” “Who is God?” It was the last one that had Mom reeling and she handed me a black book called The Bible and said in a very earnest voice, “take this book to your father and ask him about God.”
And so I did. My dad wan’t one of those “I have to be honest with you son” types, in fact he funneled down the sex talk from my older brothers to avoid having to go one on one with me about biological urges so his bible explanation left much to be desired. Ergo, I was left to my own devices to come up with an interpretation….
Engagement Party In The Eden Room

My science teacher once told me evolution is the key to everything. Everything either evolves or it doesn’t survive. Who am I to doubt such an astute authority figure? He went on to tell me there was a time when we were all mere single celled organisms. Those were the good old days, so much more innocent than life is for humans today. Back then they didn’t even have a name for us, language hadn’t even evolved yet. Now they call us bipeds because we walk upright on two legs and use our hands to make and use tools. The original bipeds, our fellow male pig Neanderthals grew up like any other pack animals, in tribes. Each tribe or community took care of itself, gave as good as it got, hunted and gathered, and had no political affiliations all of them being progressives. They’re only purpose was to eat and fuck. Reproduction and eating kept the tribe alive. Sex was a happy accident of a survival strategy. Eating was rudimentary but make no mistake sex was the key to life. Most tribes were hunters or scavengers, either killing and eating animals, or scavenging the vegetation already here on earth. However, in an area we now call the Middle East, the so-called fertile crescent (fertile the definitive word), two tribes stood out among all others. The Aggies and The Shepherds. Both tribes had become far more advanced than any of the other tribes. These two tribes used reason and logic, figuring out a way to survive working together as a colony. It took a village. One tribe were The Aggies who learned how to manipulate the vegetation and grow it at will using soil, sun and water. They were prolific growers. The other tribe, The Shepherds, learned how to manipulate the cattle and sheep, and penned them up creating a seemingly endless supply of milks and meats. They were prolific manipulators. These two tribes habituated a very large area called the Garden of Eden. They didn’t like each other but they used their logic and reason to devise treaties and form imaginary lines they called boundaries which they agreed never to cross. So it was agreed the Aggies could live in the North Eden, and the Shepherds in South Eden. The tribes kept to themselves and all was peaceful until one seemingly insignificant incident set of a series of events that would change existence forever.
It was a beautiful late morning day in the Garden of Eden when a young male Aggie named Adam decided to take a walk in the designated forbidden area. The forbidden area was smack dab in the middle of the garden which served as a sort of buffer between the two tribes. It was chock full of colorful vegetation and small wildlife that enjoyed a life free of human domination or tricks. Both Aggies and Shepherds had agreed to never enter and allow whatever life survived within have it‘s freedom. That was their demilitarized zone, a patch of land untouched and unused by man or woman. But Adam was always an impetuous adventurous young man and snuck in to admire the beauty of the wild garden and cultivate different herbs and mushrooms in the magical place. He had created a hybrid of cannabis and special mushrooms which would one day in the future of the world play a large part in Moses having his “conversation” with God. But for now Adam kept the mind enhancers secret as he was not supposed to be in that area. In fact, no one else was either, but as it would happen, or perhaps as it was destined to happen, a female had also found solace in the forbidden garden zone.
So it was that on this one particular day everything would change forever. Adam was tending his plants in solitude when he swore he heard splashing water. Following the delicate splash sounds Adam came across a small waterhole in which a young lady was bathing in the nude. Not recognizing her from his tribe he assumed she must belong to the Shepherds. Those slightly whiter skinned people who smelled of animal shit. At first he was turned off but when he looked closely at her he noticed something strange. Aside from her large woman bumps she looked much like his own kind did only fairer in skin and hair. She had a pale complexion but much of her face was obscured by long bouncing colorless curls of thick hair. He liked the way her hair reflected the light of the sun across her face allowing only her eyes of deep turquoise which sparkled like evening stars and tiny button like nose and full lips in full view. He began to get a tingling in his loins because he found her oddly attractive and his fig leaf moved seemingly on its own. He became entranced as she bathed, water glistening off her white full breasts. The sight of her cherry nipples made his stomach a tad queasy. But not a bad queasy, a kind of happy tingling. He spied her with great delight and even began to wonder if she was like the women of Aggies in other ways. He felt that youthful familiar rising in his loins that cause men to lose control of their senses. He imagined her enjoying the pleasures of sex with him like the young women of his own tribe. He fantasized making wild unbridled passionate love to her. Considering the times perhaps it was bridled sex, but whatever, she made him hard and horny as all….. For lack of a better term, all Hell.
Adam continued tending and sampling his unusual cultivation’s but that was merely his fake excuse to return. Of course Adam had already decided he would return to cop a view everyday, have a quick toke of his and he had inadvertently created what would become the heart and soul of religion……Ritual

To Be Continued Tomorrow

Philosophic Crisis

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crisis

 

 

My daughter searched my eye with solemnity
“Dad, why am I here?”
I sensed her holding back a tear
After pause I understood
Tinges of pride swelled
My child’s first existential quandary
And it is I to whom she turns
Antiquity has given me wisdom
My gift to share
I began with caution
My child:

Chase your dreams
Or your dreams will chase you
And you will never stop running
Be strong in quest
Don’t become the sum of your decisions
That’s just chasing your fate
Surround yourself with positive friends
Live and love in peace
Many times my love I too have pondered
Who am I, really?
A consequence of sexual encounter?
An anecdote of an amorous evening?
Perhaps merely the result in survival of species
Geographically and socially placed
Destined by my environment
To be just like everyone else
Repeating the same rituals
Striving for the same goals
Day after day
Is that who I am?
A unique being similar to millions of others
Pretending to be different
Becoming a product of society’s will
Forced into a subliminal advertising conspiracies
While following the rules of their game
The rules of engagement
Set by the few of power
Obeying the laws set by men
Observing religion controlled by humans
Believing the garbage spewed by leaders
Unending unfilled promises of life
Is this all there is?
White picket fences and a barrage of bills
Living debt to debt instead of day to day
Looking for answers of the ultimate question
Why?
Darling you need to search deep within yourself
Determine your own truth
Your own reality
When the dark frightens you turn on your internal light
Together we will brave the unseen
Don’t waste too much time on how or why
Just enjoy your life
Before time catches up
Time spins so much faster as it builds momentum
With a tear in her eye she searched again
This time holding back a giggle
“No Dad, I meant why am I here?”
“Why did you ask me to come over.”
My eyebrows furrowed of their own accord
My smile hid behind a wrinkle
The truth is I forgot. I guess senility has it’s virtues as well

Peace